Unleashed Book 1
by loobyloola
Summary: Post Hogwarts, Hermione and Snape are forced to work together as the war against Voldemort reaches new heights. It is vital for them to get along so they can help the war effort, but can they bring themselves to do it? Murder, Intrigue, Romance. WIP
1. Part 1

Disclaimer for all chapters: None of it's mine. It all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I didn't make the hotel name up – it's a real hotel in Sorrento. Only the plot is mine. AltaVista's BabelFish Translator has provided the translations.

Author's Note: I began to write this story before I had read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so I have decided to continue this story in a fashion that is non-compliant with HBP. Therefore, the storyline of this book has no direct effect on the story. Thanks to Victoria FE for reminding me about the less pleasant side of Naples – I have been there myself, but had forgotten to include the less than savoury aspects of it in this story, which I have now added. Thanks also to Curls for pointing out some problems with Chapter One, which I hope I have now rectified. Many thanks. Enjoy and please review.

Hermione Granger dropped her suitcase at her feet tiredly and passed a hand over her eyes, pressing slightly to try to ease the headache that was already forming there. Gatwick Airport was heaving with eager holidaymakers – there were small children everywhere, giggling and screaming with laughter and fun.

Over the pounding of her head and the heavy beat of a song playing on the radio, Hermione heard her flight being called to board, so she slowly set off amongst the hordes of fraught mothers and middle aged businessmen carrying smart leather briefcases, who looked as harassed as she felt.

As she checked in her luggage, keeping a small bag with her as hand luggage, and entered the Departure Lounge to queue up to board, Hermione looked behind her briefly as a small child collided with her legs, startling her. The child's mother smiled at her regretfully and issued a quick apology.

"It's fine," Hermione replied, smiling in return, trying to squash the unreasonable part of her that wanted to scream that it most certainly was not fine – she didn't know what the hell she was doing, stuck in Gatwick Airport's Departure Lounge, not knowing why she had to go to her destination. And why did she have to go during the first week of the summer holidays?

Hermione groaned slightly. There was no point being so negative about everything. Last New Year's Eve she had promised herself that she would be more positive about life. She turned back to the woman, who rolled her eyes jokingly at Hermione as her daughter sat on the floor by her feet and started to slurp noisily from a carton of orange juice. The woman's expression definitely said, 'Peace at last!'

Hermione was just about to ask the woman where she was going on holiday when the words suddenly died on her lips, her expression changing to one of immense curiosity as she glanced over the woman's shoulder and saw a familiar-looking figure all in black standing by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to the room as he presumably watched the aeroplanes on the Landing Area, which was overlooked by the Departure Lounge.

As the queue to board moved forward, Hermione darted out of the crowd of chattering people, murmuring an apology to the woman behind her, who was now trying to negotiate three children, a grumpy-looking husband and all their hand luggage forward. Hermione dodged around the crowds of people surrounding her, trying to catch another glimpse of the figure in black.

"Sorry…Sorry," she muttered as she moved through the disgruntled holidaymakers, ignoring the annoyed glances that were thrown in her direction.

When she finally reached the window, however, the figure had completely disappeared. She spun around, searching for him in the constantly moving throng of people. He was nowhere to be seen. She had been so sure she had seen…

Hermione shook her head. She had clearly been mistaken. And why did she care so much anyway? Glancing behind her a few last times, Hermione rejoined the queue, unable to stop herself from throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to scan the room now and again.

Half an hour later, Hermione had safely stowed her bag away into the overhead lockers and collapsed tiredly into her cramped Economy Class seat. Unfortunately, Economy Class was all she could afford. Although she hadn't planned this trip, she did, of course, still have to pay.

Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione barely noticed as someone sat down next to her. She sighed in undeniable exhaustion and closed her eyes momentarily, feeling fed up with the world and wanting nothing more to be back in her flat, curled up with a good book.

Behind her, she could hear a couple of newlyweds discussing all the things they were going to do on their honeymoon. Italy – what a perfect place to go on holiday. Hermione felt a flash of envy at the people around her who were going to Italy to enjoy themselves – all those gorgeous buildings to admire, the fantastic scenery, the opportunity to investigate Pompeii, Herculaneum, Mount Vesuvius…

Hermione snorted under her breath. Somehow she doubted that the couple behind her would do anything more than stay locked up in their room together for most of their holiday. It was what honeymooners did, she supposed. But if she were going on holiday with a lover, let alone a new husband, they would spend their time immersing themselves in the culture of the place. A small bubble of jealousy mounted within her, despite her thoughts.

'Why can't I have someone to stay in bed all day with?' she thought despondently, unable to stop herself. But no, she didn't even know why she was going to Italy to stay in a town called Sorrento near the city of Naples.

The previous night she had been at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, drinking her lonely way through a bottle of wine in her room when Dumbledore had suddenly appeared in her fireplace and told her to book herself onto the next available flight to Naples and pack for a short trip. He had assured her that he would tell her everything once she arrived.

And like the good little girl she was, she had sobered up, packed, called the airport, and now here she was; on yet another secret mission for the Order of the Phoenix. Not that she was complaining exactly. She was just so tired. She and Lupin had only arrived back at Grimmauld Place after a fruitless mission to Edinburgh a few days previously. The strain was starting to show on Hermione's face – despite being only twenty-three years of age, deep frown lines were already beginning to emerge on her forehead, and there were permanent dark shadows under her chestnut eyes.

Moments later, she was shaken out of her thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice coming from her left.

"I must say, Miss Granger, you seem a lot less enamoured with the world than when I last saw you."

Hermione's head snapped round.

"Professor!"

"Evidently, Miss Granger."

And looking back at her through a curtain of hair as black as night was Severus Snape, wearing, instead of his usual black wizard robes, a black suit with a loose black shirt underneath, the first few buttons of which were undone, revealing a few inches of pale chest.

"It was you! I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed loudly, quietening immediately when he raised one arched eyebrow at her. "You were standing by the windows in the Departure Lounge."

"Indeed, Miss Granger," he admitted, his voice as professional as ever, but sounding slightly bored.

They were both silent for a few moments as the airhostess indicated the emergency exits and talked through the procedure should there be an incident. Hermione only half listened, instead shooting the man beside her subtle glances as he read through the safety pack and reflecting on how odd it was to be in such a normal situation with such an extraordinary man. He looked little different from how she remembered him – she had left Hogwarts five years earlier, and had it not been for the extra lines he had gained around his eyes, mouth and forehead, he barely looked a day older than then. Of course, she had seen him since leaving school, which was inevitable as they were now both members of the Order of the Phoenix. He was invariably flitting about Grimmauld Place during school holidays and weekends (to the chagrin of both him and the other members of the Order), but she hadn't spoken to him properly in at least a year. Everyone was too busy now to bother with small talk with those who were merely acquaintances. But of course, Severus Snape had never been a man to indulge in small talk anyway.

Hermione didn't even want to think about that strange feeling of excitement mingled with desperation that she had felt when she saw him in the Departure Lounge – it was probably just that she was starved of intelligent human company and conversation for such long periods the moment that it was a relief to see another Order member – someone who understood what she was going through.

"Do you intend to gawp at me for the whole flight, Miss Granger? Because if you do kindly inform me now so I can change my seat," Snape said abruptly, not bothering to look at her, and Hermione looked quickly away in embarrassment at being caught.

"No, sir," she muttered, feeling for all her twenty-three years that she was back in that dank dungeon that had served as a Potions classroom, a nervous eleven year old once again.

"Good. Now, I am assuming that your overactive brain is still in full working order and you were about to ask me some inane question, Miss Granger, " Snape said, sneering at her. Hermione ignored the barely veiled insult.

"May I ask exactly why you are travelling to Italy, Professor?" she asked in as polite a tone as she could muster. He frowned at her and addressed her in a rather sharp tone.

"You mean Albus hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

Snape muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an extremely rude word. Hermione was only vaguely surprised – of course it was odd to hear one of your ex-teachers swear in front of you, but when the teacher in question was in fact a Death Eater, the situation wasn't as shocking as it might have been.

"We are working together from now on, Miss Granger. Albus wants us to investigate a killing that happened on the Isle of Capri. He-" Snape broke off as he glanced around and realised there were many people around them who could easily hear their conversation, not least the airhostess who was telling them to fasten their seat belts.

"_Muffliato_," he murmured, waving his hand discreetly. "Albus suspects that the killing may be the work of Death Eaters," he told her, keeping his voice low and constantly looking around to make sure they weren't being overheard.

Hermione just nodded, thinking over what he had told her, and wondering why Snape was being so civil to her. Thinking about it, Albus had probably bribed him somehow to behave this way.

"Unfortunately for us," Snape continued, "Albus also wants us to pretend to be normal 'holidaymakers'," he spoke this word with immense disdain, "so we don't arouse suspicion. He has booked us into a hotel in Sorrento, where we will be staying for however long it takes for us to find out what happened. Unfortunately for us, it also means that we are forced to travel by Muggle transport to Italy, so we don't raise suspicion. Death Eaters in Italy could quite easily track us if we were to apparate or floo into the country."

There was a pause as Hermione digested this information, and then;

"Professor?"

"Hmm?" he replied, looking slightly off-colour all of a sudden as the aeroplane began to accelerate along the runway.

"Why has Professor Dumbledore asked us to work together?"

As the plane finally took off from the ground with a slight jerk, Snape looked positively green and was clutching onto his armrests for dear life. Hermione had never seen her uptight professor act so normally. She did wonder, however, why he was apparently scared of flying when he was such a developed broom-flyer. She supposed it was probably to do with the fact that he didn't trust Muggles and he wasn't in control. He seemed like the sort of person who would be rather a control freak.

"Are you alright, Professor?" she asked gently, wondering whether to put a comforting hand on his arm. In the end she decided not to. Dumbledore had once told her that Snape didn't like to be touched.

"I'm fine," he snarled, glaring at her concerned expression and she was immediately glad she hadn't reached out to touch him, as she had a sudden image of her hand being blown off with a mere flick of his wand. The plane was now flying smoothly, and Snape seemed to calm down slightly, although he still looked slightly ill.

"In answer to your question, Miss Granger," he ground out, swallowing deeply. As he did so, Hermione couldn't help but notice the attractive way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed.

_Attractive? What the hell are you thinking, Hermione?_

But before Hermione could think on this too deeply, Snape was continuing, "Albus seems to feel that we will work well together. He has clearly forgotten the fact that I have never been known to work well with know-it-alls, especially know-it-alls who happen to be especially irritating ex-students. And now, if you don't have any more of your thrilling questions for me, I have been subjected to an extremely trying week and I would appreciate the chance to sleep," he said, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

And with that, Snape leant his head back against the uncomfortable headrest, closed his eyes and within minutes his breathing had evened out so much that Hermione decided he must be asleep.

She turned away and gazed unseeingly out of the window. He was exactly the same; just as enigmatic as he had always been. And yet there was something different about him that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on – he was still sarcastic, but his comments didn't have the same sting that they used to. She could tell that some of the fight had gone out of him. It still hurt a little childish part of her though, to hear him refer to her as a know-it-all. Although she had grown up, it was hard not to remember the hell he had put her and her friends through at school – that insulting and hurtful name seemed to be synoptic of the whole situation.

Not wanting to ponder any more about things that she knew would upset her, Hermione curled her body up in her seat, closed her eyes and drifted off into a light sleep.

Next to her, Severus Snape casually opened one eye and glanced over at the woman sitting in the window seat. As he realized she was asleep, he opened the other eye and regarded her properly. It was weeks since he'd last seen her at Grimmauld Place – he had heard she had been on various missions around the country for Dumbledore, generally it seemed, with the purpose of spying on any suspected Death Eater activity.

When he had last seen her though, she had seemed happy enough with her life and the part she was playing in the Order of the Phoenix. But now, something within her had very definitely changed. She seemed so quiet and reflective compared to her usual know-it-all self. As he had been talking to her he had been tempted to use Legilimency to slip inside her mind and find out what exactly was wrong with her – all of a sudden, he found this young girl extremely intriguing.

'And her mind isn't the only part of her you'd like to investigate further,' he thought traitorously, and for a brief moment he couldn't keep his eyes off her body. That had certainly changed since her school days as well. Indeed, he couldn't help but notice her slightly curvy figure; she was all hips and breasts and thighs and small waist. He had never been attracted to stick thin girls and he couldn't help but admit to himself that Miss Granger had grown up to have a body that he would very much like to get his hands on.

His eyes darted away guiltily as she wriggled in her seat, slouching down further into her headrest as if she was trying to hide from the world. Severus couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make her so disenchanted with life. He supposed it was simply the fact that it was tiring, repetitive and often boring to chase Death Eaters all over the country.

Sighing faintly and shifting in his hard chair – he was getting old – Severus put his head back and closed his eyes, intent on getting some rest as well.

Over two hours later they had finally arrived at their destination and were able to free their stiff and aching limbs from the confining rows of seats. As Hermione and Snape left the aeroplane together and walked into the overwhelmingly bright sunshine, Hermione stopped for a moment, simply enjoying being alive for the first time in longer than she cared to think about. She could hear people – normal people – all around her, chatting, hugging, kissing, and she could she the sky; a beautiful bright blue blanket over her, the clouds mere splodges of white.

Sensing that Snape was becoming impatient with her, Hermione started walking again, but stopped as she realized she didn't have a clue where she was going. Turning back, she saw Snape standing where she had left him, a slight smirk on his face. He walked towards her and, taking her by the elbow, led her towards the exit of the airport.

"But what about our luggage?" she asked, trying to turn back, but his grip on her arm was too tight.

"Ah, so astute, Miss Granger," he said, and she wasn't sure if he was mocking her or not. "Our luggage is being sent to our hotel." And with that he used his spare hand to reach inside his suit and draw out a pair of black sunglasses that he placed on his nose as they emerged into the bright light of Naples.

Hermione almost gaped at him and Snape had trouble hiding another smirk. As Hermione looked around herself at the Italian men in their black Armani suits and shades, dark hair flowing over their shoulders, she couldn't help think that Snape fitted in rather well here. Except for his pale skin of course - all the men here had deep tans on muscled bodies that made Hermione feel rather hot despite herself.

But then again, maybe it was just the weather that made her feel that way. The natural heat of Italy hit her immediately – it was unlike anything that they ever experienced in England – a perfect dry heat, not that disgustingly sticky, sweaty, stormy heat they got back home. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how Snape could stand to be all in black; she was boiling and she was wearing a white linen skirt and a pink t-shirt, but he seemed as cool and elusive as ever, not even breaking into a sweat as he steered her through the mass of people. Although she hated to admit it, Hermione was glad he was leading her like this. Despite the fact that it was Snape, she felt safer and more secure knowing that she wasn't completely alone in a foreign country. And she had always liked the idea of the man taking over and looking after her – she knew it was old-fashioned, but there was something so alluring about the idea of a man dealing with all her problems for her.

Looking around, Hermione realised Snape had led her to the taxi rank, and was now walking her towards a black car with a man leant against it, holding a sign saying, 'Mr and Mrs Blackthorn'.

"Professor, what are you doing?" she asked worriedly as they got closer. "That car's not for us!"

"On the contrary, Miss Granger," he whispered. "This car is most definitely for us." And with that he released her elbow and muttered a quick spell. Hermione felt the tingle of magic wash over her left hand and looked down – a sparkling gold band had appeared on her ring finger. A moment later, she saw a flash of gold on his own finger before he walked confidently up to the taxi-driver, shook his hand and then held the cab door open for Hermione, gesturing for her to precede him in.

Hermione got into the car in a daze, barely noticing as Snape slid in beside her and the taxi-driver started up the engine.

"What are you doing?" she hissed angrily, feeling sorry for the real Mr and Mrs Blackthorn; they had clearly had their cab stolen. Snape merely raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.

"Nothing Miss Granger," he whispered, before muttering, "_Muffliato_". Then he leant very close to her.

"We are Mr and Mrs Blackthorn, Miss Granger. Albus insisted upon false names as a safety measure. We are booked into the hotel under that name, so start acting like a married woman rather than a tramp, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mouth fell open in outrage at the open insult, but she found herself unable to find the words to express her anger at him. She folded her arms in disgust and turned away from him, staring out of the window without really seeing anything. In turn, Snape sat next to her for the rest of the journey, likewise staring out of the window, a concerned frown etched across his features, somehow worlds apart from her despite their physical proximity.

As they travelled through the disgustingly filthy streets of Naples, Hermione felt as though claws were grasping at her throat. Everywhere she looked she saw poverty - every time the driver had to stop at traffic lights, beggars would approach the car, seemingly surrounding it from all sides, banging on the windows with piteous cries. Whilst Snape sat impassively next to her, looking straight through the poor people, Hermione felt the prick of tears in her eyes, especially when she saw a boy of little more than five sat on a pile of household rubbish and crying piteously. The smell of the city - of sweating flesh and rotting rubbish made its sneaky way into the cab and Hermione nearly gagged at the sheer strength of it in some places.

Before she could dwell to deeply on the lives of these people – poverty wasn't something she had experienced to this degree before – the cab was leaving the city, winding its way through small streets and up into the hills. Hermione wound down her window gratefully and rested her head against the door, to tired to even think about anything any more.

"Hermione! For Merlin's sake will you hurry up?" Snape hissed at her and Hermione could tell that he was only barely refraining himself from screaming at her in frustration. It wasn't her fault that the road leading up to the hotel where they were staying ('La Pergola') was cobbled and extremely steep and she was wearing sandals. It was rather hard to negotiate and he, of course, hadn't helped her in the slightest, not even offering to carry her bag for her. The fact that he had called her 'Hermione' for the first time that day barely registered with her.

When she finally reached the top of the incline, she found him sitting on a stone wall, scowling. Even though it was nearly nine o'clock at night, it was still very light, so Hermione could clearly see the annoyance written all over his face. As she reached him, he got up and stalked off again towards the bright lights of the hotel a few yards away, leaving her to trail in his wake yet again. She had the distinct impression that Snape still did not see her as his equal (or anything remotely near to an equal), despite the fact she had left school five years ago and they were both members of the Order.

Although he had been vile to her, Hermione was gratified that he had, at the very least, waited for her before entering the hotel – she had been worried that he would just walk off and be locked away in his room by the time she arrived at the hotel. Knowing his behaviour, she certainly wouldn't have put it past him. Hermione wouldn't have liked to have been forced to walk into a hotel where she didn't know anybody and she didn't speak their language.

She found him again in the foyer, talking quietly to an extremely tanned and attractive woman who looked like a stereotypical Italian woman– stick thin with long dark hair and ridiculously long eyelashes that she was batting at Snape. As he leaned closer to the woman, saying something that made her giggle, Hermione felt a strange twinge of something in her chest, but she shrugged it off, walking up to him instead. The idea of him flirting with a woman should rightly have made her feel sick to her stomach, but for some strange reason it didn't in the slightest. Instead, she recognised a strange twisting feeling in her gut that she didn't want to think about.

"Grazie signora, la vostra bontà notevolmente è apprezzata." Snape spoke fluently to the woman who smiled at him through long eyelashes. Hermione found herself looking at him enquiringly once more as he led the way over to a staircase opposite them, a key in his hand.

"I didn't know you could speak Italian," she said in pleasantly surprised tones and his face went back to its usual scowl.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Miss Granger," he said enigmatically, frown lines still creasing his face.

"Don't you mean Mrs Blackthorn?" Hermione quipped and she was again surprised to see that the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly.

"Indeed."

When Snape stopped in front of a door on the third floor of the hotel, Hermione held her hand out, expecting him to hand her the key to her own room.

"Miss Granger, I would have thought that you would have realised that we shall have to share a room to keep up the pretence of husband and wife," Snape said quietly, pushing past her and opening the door. Fuming, but not knowing what to say to him, Hermione followed Snape into the room.

It was a gorgeous room; a large double bed dominated it, and the furnishings were simple but attractive. There were huge floor-to-ceiling windows at one end which led out onto a balcony that overlooked the front of the hotel – as Hermione looked out she had a clear view of the pool beneath her and the outside bar area where a few couples were sitting drinking, their arms entwined around each other. The beauty of the room, however, was definitely tainted by the fact that she had to share it with Snape – of course she had shared rooms with other Order members such as Tonks and Lupin on missions before, but this was completely different. This was Snape.

Turning back to the room, Hermione noticed for the first time that their bags had been delivered and left on the floor by the bed. Snape was sat on the bed opening his case and pulling out various magical instruments, his wand in his hand.

"You're almost as bad as Mad-Eye Moody, Professor," Hermione said, startling Snape. He looked up at her without a trace of amusement as he removed a Pensieve from his suitcase. Without replying he got up and strode to the wardrobe, flicking his wrist so that all his clothes unfolded themselves and hung themselves up neatly. Then, without even bothering to ask, he released the lock on Hermione's suitcase with a tap of his wand, and sent her clothes flying into the wardrobe next to his. Hermione decided it was infinitely disturbing to see her possessions lined up so neatly next to Snape's.

"Come on, I managed to persuade that slut on reception to feed us now," Snape said abruptly, already at the door. Hermione stared at him, vaguely shocked by his blatant use of foul language. She couldn't get her head around how different this Snape was – it was almost as if he was a different person.

"Come on!" he barked, shaking her out of her thoughts, and she followed him at a slower pace down to the Dining Room.

They spent dinner in almost complete silence, Hermione concentrating on her plate the whole time and barely even looking up at Snape. He contemplated her silently, wondering what was going on in that over-active brain of hers. The waiters watched them interestedly, commenting quietly on what an odd couple they made. They suspected it was some sort of arranged marriage – the woman seemed positively terrified of her husband and could barely look at him. The age difference was another clue.

Once back up in their room after an awkward half hour in the Dining Room, Hermione got out her wand and was about to conjure another bed for Snape to sleep on (she was having the comfy bed if she was forced to share a room with him) when he suddenly grabbed her wrist in a grip that felt it might bruise her bones.

"No magic," he snarled, looking at her as if she were an idiot. She wrenched her hand away from his grasp, surprising even herself that she had been able to release herself from him.

"But you did magic, I watched you put our clothes away!" she exclaimed, overwhelmed by the hypocrisy of his words. He was by far the most infuriating man she had ever met!

"Ah yes," he said very softly. "But you were about to conjure another bed weren't you?"

The way her eyes darted downwards towards the floor told him that his assumption had been correct.

"That's the kind of magic that can be traced," he continued. "Traced by Death Eaters. Traced by people who don't find your presence as joyful as I do, Miss Granger. Traced by people who would be quite happy to see us in wooden boxes under the ground. If you see where I am going with this, Miss Granger? I think we need a rule: no magic on this 'holiday'." He spat out the word as if it had an unpleasant taste.

"Fine," she snapped, too tired to even think about arguing with him anymore. "But I'm having the right-side of the bed." And with that, she stalked off into the bathroom, picking up her pyjamas and wash bag as she went and slamming the door behind her.

Severus sighed tiredly. The way she behaved merely showed how immature she really was. There was no way this was just tiredness – he was exhausted and yet he was still capable of behaving like a reasonable human being. He wearily picked up his own nightclothes and began stripping off, leaving his clothes in a messy heap by the side of the bed. When he was dressed in his black pyjama bottoms and a plain white cotton t-shirt, he stuffed his wand under the pillow and climbed into bed – the left-hand side, despite the fact he normally slept on the right – and closed his eyes, unwilling to allow this infuriating day to continue any longer for him.

Hermione splashed water furiously onto her face. That man! In all her life she had never known someone who could wind her up in the same way that he did. Since leaving school she had forgotten how the man could drive one crazy, but now the memories were all coming flooding back. And it wasn't just that he was annoying. He still knew exactly what to say to hurt her the most.

_Know-it-all…_

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, Hermione pulled her pyjama shorts and t-shirt on and walked out of the bathroom, her head held high, expecting him to be waiting for her, a sneer on his face. But instead, she found him deeply asleep in bed, the lines on his face relaxed slightly in slumber. She was pleased to note that he was sleeping on the left side of the bed – that was one small victory for her, at least. Too tired to contemplate anything any longer, she switched the lights off in the room and crept into the bed, careful to stay as far away as possible from him. She was too sleepy to even feel any embarrassment over their situation, and within minutes, she too was fast asleep, the sounds of their breathing mingling in the otherwise silent room.

Rough translation:

'Grazie signora, la vostra bontà notevolmente è apprezzata' – Thank you Madam, your kindness is appreciated.


	2. Part 2

Author's Note: Thanks for the encouraging reviews!

Severus Snape opened his eyes warily, blinking rapidly at the bright light flooding the room in which he was sleeping. He quickly tried to raise an arm to toss over his eyes to shield himself from the sunshine permeating the thin curtains at the window to pierce the room with astoundingly dazzling light, only to realize that something was effectively stopping him from being able to move.

He looked over in sleepy confusion and saw through slumber-blurred vision that a young woman with thick, tousled, chestnut hair was the cause of his inability to move. Her shoulders were moving up and down at a slow, steady pace, which led Severus to undoubtedly believe that she was still fast asleep.

It was clear that during the night, both he and Hermione had rolled into the middle of the bed, and Severus groaned as he realized how closely they were pressed up against each other. She was curled into his side, her head resting on his outstretched arm. Her left hand was lying on his chest and his right arm was lying across his own stomach, the hand on the end of his arm loosely holding her waist. He removed his hand as though scorched.

Her face was mere inches away from his, and Severus honestly couldn't see a way out of the bed without waking her, which for some reason, he was loathe to do. He supposed it was probably due to the fact that an awake Miss Granger meant an annoyingly inquisitive Miss Granger, but a small part of him protested at that train of thought.

'It's more than that and you know it,' he thought without meaning to. Yesterday she had seemed so out of sorts, especially when they were driving through Naples, that a strange fragment of his mind that he tried to quell had wanted to comfort her in some way. Mind you, it was probably just a reaction to the poverty and dirt she had no doubt noticed in Naples – although he had experienced such conditions many times, he remembered his own disgust when he had been little more than a young boy and he had come across such abject poverty for the first time.

'Oh, yes,' he thought grimly, frowning up at the ceiling. He had seen more poverty and deprivation than she ever would, he suspected. Shaking himself out of his morbid thoughts, Severus flicked his gaze to the clock on the wall opposite him, and, realizing that he could feasibly sleep for another few hours, he closed his eyes. Despite the intense light bathing the room, Severus was asleep again within minutes.

"Mm." Hermione exhaled, a vague smile spreading across her face as she awoke and stretched languidly in bed. Sunlight was pouring through her window – it was going to be a beautiful day. And then she rolled over and found herself almost on top of a sleeping Severus Snape.

Her bubble burst upon the imminent contact with him and her smile faded as she remembered that she wasn't happily at home in her flat in London (which she rarely inhabited now anyway), but in Italy, sharing a bed with her ex-Professor.

She quickly pulled away from him, but couldn't help watching his face for a few short moments. In slumber, he looked so different to his normal, sarcastic self. He was snoring softly and grunted as Hermione pulled away from his body, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at their situation. Whilst she had always assumed that she would never be able to even contemplate sleeping in the same room as someone who snored, confused awkwardness soared through Hermione as she realised she didn't find Snape's sleeping noises in the least bit offensive. Indeed, she couldn't help but notice once again how much more relaxed he looked in slumber, and his faint snores seemed to rupture the otherwise silent room in an almost comforting manner. About to crawl out of bed, she paused momentarily as he made a rumbling sound in his chest and shifted in his sleep, struck with a sudden fear that he might wake up. She couldn't deal with facing him at the moment – she needed to get her head sorted first. Everything was just too bewildering, not least the way she felt about him.

But luckily he just scratched his belly in a movement that was somehow completely masculine, and then rolled over in the bed onto his stomach, shoving one hand under his pillow and tucking his face into the material, his hair obscuring her view of his face.

Hermione crept silently out of bed and pulled the sheet back over his body from where it had got tucked around his waist, trapping him. She then went straight to the wardrobe and pulled out her bikini and a towel.

She tiptoed into the bathroom and quickly pulled on the bikini. She then wrapped the towel around herself and pulled her unruly hair up into a messy bun before she left the room.

Checking that Severus was still asleep, she slid her feet into her sandals and fled the room, keen to take a dip in the inviting-looking swimming pool, leaving her nightclothes in a pile next to the wardrobe, embarrassment still staining her cheeks pink.

Hermione walked quickly through the hotel to get downstairs and outside to the pool, avoiding the eyes of all the other guests who she passed. Confusion was rife in her mind as she struggled to come to terms with the strange situation she found herself plunged into.

Finally reaching the outdoor swimming pool, the sun felt hard and heavy on her skin as she dropped her towel, leaving it in a pile on a sun bed. She slid swiftly into the water, allowing its cool stillness to ease her. Relaxing slightly for the first time since she had met Severus Snape on the aeroplane yesterday, Hermione swam a few quick lengths, the water lapping soothingly around her chin.

The outside of the hotel was almost completely still - it was still fairly early in the morning and the only people around were a waiter from the dining room clearing tables in the patio area opposite and an old man sat on the steps leading up to the hotel entrance, sipping a from mug of coffee and reading his morning paper.

Hermione was glad that Dumbledore had chosen this small, quiet hotel for them to stay at – if she had to remain here with Severus Snape, at least she could try to enjoy the pool and bar. She also intended to try and see a bit of the town if she got the chance. And she had always wanted to visit Capri, ever since she had been a young child – she had just never envisaged herself going there with her sullen ex-Professor.

Not wanting to dwell on him any longer, as it only producing mixed, perplexing emotions, Hermione kicked back from the side of the pool and floated about in the water, closing her eyes and allowing the sound of birds singing in the tress above her and the warmth of the sun on her face to lull her into peacefulness.

Back up in the hotel room, Severus awoke, finding himself sprawled out across the middle of the bed on his back. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Exhaling crossly, Severus sat up and looked around the room, spotting her nightclothes on the floor by the large wardrobe.

Feeling hot and fidgety, he flung the covers off himself and got out of bed, heading over to the windows and out onto the balcony, rubbing his face and pulling off his t-shirt as he did. He dropped it thoughtlessly on the floor as he passed the bed. Once outside, he slumped down into one of the uncomfortable, white plastic chairs that had been set out on the small balcony and looked down, watching as small figures wandered down the road that must lead to the town, and wondering where the hell Hermione had gone to. He could do without having to constantly look out for her.

Peering through the balcony railings, he exhaled in irritation as he saw Hermione swimming in the pool below him. Trust her to be so ridiculously active in the morning. He scratched his tummy absentmindedly and got up from his chair. He was hungry - he would get dressed and tell Hermione to do the same.

Before he got up though, he couldn't help but notice that she was wearing – well, hardly anything. She was wearing one of those ridiculous Muggle contraptions called a 'bikini'. It was revealing to say the least, and despite the water obscuring his view, he could see that the scraps of material barely hid her undeniably womanly-looking assets.

'Merlin!' he couldn't help thinking. 'Those things shouldn't be allowed.'

Mentally shaking his head, Severus pushed himself up from his seat and strode back in the relative shade of the hotel room.

Ten minutes later, Severus was fully dressed in long dark shorts and a black t-shirt, sunglasses once again resting on the bridge of his nose. He walked confidently out to the pool area, his strides long, not willing to wait any longer for this chit of a girl to have his breakfast.

Hermione looked up in surprise as his shadow fell over the water where she was swimming. He stood there staring at her for a long moment, and, instead of the feelings of peace she had been experiencing until his arrival, Hermione felt hatred and contempt spewing up inside of her.

"Miss Granger," he said so quietly she could barely hear him. "I realize that as a young woman, you probably have more pressing matters on your mind than the death of a likely innocent man, but may I remind you that this is not a holiday. We have work to do and I would appreciate it if you would kindly get dressed and meet me in the dining room for breakfast. I do not like to be kept waiting, Miss Granger."

And with that he turned sharply on his heel, and walked abruptly up the stairs and back into the hotel.

Standing in the pool with the water level coming up to her hips, Hermione wanted to scream and splash at the water around her. How dare he speak to her like that? As if she were little more than a child! And he had the cheek to insinuate that she didn't care about innocent people dying when she…

She splashed angrily out of the pool and grabbed up her towel, ignoring the pain and remorse that was welling up inside of her. She wrapped the towel around her body and almost ran up to their room, determined that she would ignore that idiotic man for the rest of the trip.

When she arrived at the dining room at few minutes later, wearing long denim shorts and a white vest top, Severus was already eating breakfast, not having bothered to wait for her after his little poolside performance. She sat silently down opposite him at their table and didn't acknowledge him when he looked up at her from buttering his toast. She simply picked up her bowl and filled it with cereal before pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Miss Granger," he hissed. She pointedly ignored him and took a sip of her juice, concentrating determinedly on the tablecloth.

"Miss Granger," he said, a little louder this time, annoyance evident in his tone. Again she ignored him and reached over for the jug of milk for her cereal. As she did so however, his own hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in a tight, almost painful grip. She looked up at him in shock as his fingertips dug into her skin.

"Do you find it amusing, Miss Granger," he said very softly, his eyes flashing dangerously, "to ignore me?"

She met his eyes defiantly, and he stared back at her, his black eyes expressing no emotion other than intense dislike.

"Kindly remove yourself from my person, Professor," she said as calmly as she could. "People are looking."

Severus' head whipped around. It was true; the people at the tables nearest them were looking at them as though scandalised and the waiters were talking quietly amongst themselves again, glancing over every so often.

He let go of her slowly, and she snatched her hand back across the table into her lap, glaring boldly at him as she did so. Severus narrowed his eyes at her in return but looked back at his breakfast, taking a bite of toast, which tasted decidedly bitter to him as he chewed slowly.

When the waiter came over a few minutes later to offer the pair a cup of coffee, Severus scowled at him but jerked his head in agreement. He drank the coffee quickly whilst Hermione refused a cup with a shy smile. That shy little smile annoyed him more than anything else that morning. Who the hell did she think she was to flirt with the waiter like that? He had half a mind to call her the little tramp she was. Standing up sharply, he started walking up the stairs that led up to the Reception Area, throwing a brusque,

"Come on," over his shoulder to Hermione.

Deciding that there was no way she was going to answer to his every whim, Hermione finished eating her breakfast deliberately slowly, thanked the waiter and then walked up to the Reception, where Severus was stood leaning against the door frame, smoking a cigarette.

As she approached him, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and grabbed her arm, before dragging her forcefully her down the flight of stairs that led outside.

"What the hell have you been doing?" he hissed angrily and Hermione turned to him, annoyance unmistakable on her normally placid face.

"I have been enjoying my breakfast, Professor," she stated in as sweet a voice as she could manage. She felt as though her anger at this man was throttling her, and she had to bite back the insults that wanted to come flowing out of her mouth. "It's a shame that you didn't have the patience to do the same." And with that she reached up and yanked the cigarette out of his mouth, leaving him with a vaguely surprised expression on his face.

"You're killing yourself," she muttered angrily. "And I refuse to be seen with a smoker."

Instead of dropping the cigarette on the ground and putting it out with her heel, as he would have done, Hermione walked over to a bin nearby, stubbed out the cigarette on the side of the bin and dropped it in.

She then strode off down the path that led into the town, leaving Severus to follow. He quickly caught up with her, hating the thought of appearing as if he was obediently following his 'wife'. He was sorely tempted to light another cigarette just to aggravate her.

They walked quickly into the town and Hermione couldn't help but pause and look around herself in wonder – all the buildings here were so gorgeous, and the sky was a beautiful, awe-inspiring blue.

"Come on," Severus murmured gruffly and held out his hand to her.

Hermione just looked at him, not sure she quite believed what he appeared to be suggesting.

"Miss Granger," he hissed through gritted teeth, fed up with her already. "Take my hand."

"As if I would hold your hand, you chauvinistic bastard!"

"Take my hand, Miss Granger! We are 'married' after all!" He was almost shouting at her in the street now, unable to conceal his exasperation and anger at this infuriating girl any longer. He wanted to be back at Hogwarts, enjoying some Potions research – the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in Italy in this unbearably sweltering heat with her.

"No!" Hermione yelled, and before Severus could do anything to stop her, she had darted off amongst the crowds of people and disappeared from his view.

"Fine!" he shouted at her back, and, turning on his heel, stormed off towards a café that was across the road. There were people all around shooting him curious glances, and he wanted to scream. Just great – one day into the mission, and her childish behaviour might have already given them away. After dodging the mass of traffic on the busy road, he slumped down into a seat at one of the tables outside the café and waited, fuming, for Hermione to reappear.

"Whisky. Un doppio," he ordered when the waiter came over to his table. When his drink arrived he slugged it down in one go and immediately felt a bit better. Pulling his box of cigarettes out of his pocket, he lit one and then, moments later, another, allowing the smoky flavour to soothe him.

Hermione wandered slowly through the town, still angry with that bloody man. She calmed down a little, however, as she immersed herself in the typical small-town Italian architecture of the place – everything was so stunning – she felt as though she could stay here forever.

All around her, market traders were shouting their wares, and Hermione happily wandered about, not sparing a thought for precisely where she was going. All she cared about was getting away from that awful man. She strolled happily through the busy market place, admiring the deliciously fresh fruit and vegetables that were for sale, and stopping momentarily to stroke a some rabbits who were for sale at one stall. She didn't know how far she had been walking when she stopped suddenly, the intense beauty of one building overwhelming her.

As she looked upon it, her vision narrowed until it was all she could see, and the sounds of everyday life around her began to fade out slowly. The gothic architecture of the building was stunning – it was hugely tall, and covered with intricate carvings and arches, gargoyles hanging perilously from every crevice and corner. But the thing that struck Hermione most of all was the fresco that had been painted all over the front of the building – it depicted the Virgin Mary holding a baby Jesus, and then moved into images of the Romans crucifying Jesus. Their faces were harsh, pointed, evil and in stark contrast to the loving beauty and innocence of the Virgin and her son on the other side of the fresco.

Across the top of the weather-beaten fresco, Hermione could decipher the words – 'l'amore attrae l'avversione, ma l'avversione attrae l'avversione'. Wondering exactly what it meant, but suspecting it had something to do with love – l'amore - Hermione stood, her back to the rest of the world, and gazed up at the striking building, completely entranced by it.

Shit.

This wasn't good. Where the hell was she? All Severus' experience with women – his mother, sister, previous lovers – had led him to believe that Hermione would storm off to vent her anger for twenty minutes or so, but after that she would be back by his side, begging his forgiveness and buying him drinks and cigarettes to apologise for her abominable behaviour.

But no. Wretched little Miss Granger always had to be different didn't she? Proving that he would not, for as long as he lived, ever understand women and their ridiculous ways. Checking his watch again, Severus realized that she had been missing for nearly an hour now.

Not wanting to wait any longer for her, Severus got to his feet a little unsteadily (he had managed to consume three double whiskeys) and threw some Euros down onto the table for the waiter to collect.

Glad he could hold his liquor reasonably well, Severus walked quickly through the maze of tables on the patio area of the café and into the crowds of people milling around, only stumbling now and again. He walked across the main square, narrowly avoiding mopeds and buses and into a side street which held a sign pronouncing that it led down to the market square. Deciding this was the most likely place for Hermione to have gone – buying things was all most women seemed to think about – he strode off down the alley.

Once in the alley, Severus sighed slightly in relief; the houses were packed so closely together here that he could barely see any sky above him, which meant that it was blissfully cool compared to the overbearing heat of the town square.

He covered the ground quickly, wondering exactly why Hermione had reacted so ridiculously. It was just a hand for Merlin's sake – what was so offensive about that? Still, she had clearly taken offence for some reason and had had the cheek to call him a chauvinist! When all he was trying to do was look out for that slip of girl! He had just got it thrown back in his face. After all, Albus had told him to make sure they kept up the façade of man and wife at all times. That girl was just ridiculous.

Emerging from the dark alley into the full light of the morning sun in the market square, Severus winced and slid his sunglasses back onto his nose. He glanced quickly around the market stalls, but so far there was no sign whatsoever of Hermione. Cursing Albus for putting him in this maddening situation, he walked quickly off around the square, checking it more thoroughly this time.

He had almost directly said, 'no' when Albus had told him he was to accompany Miss Granger to Italy to investigate the death of a man who Albus suspected had been a wizard. Albus felt that it was important to ascertain if this death had been at the hands of Death Eaters – if it had, he and the Italian Minister for Magic would need to approach the Italian Prime Minister to get him on board.

Severus had only agreed because of a rather repulsive sense of duty. Almost a year ago to the day, Draco Malfoy, a new recruit to the Death Eaters, had discovered Severus divulging Voldemort's latest secrets to Albus.

Albus had reacted swiftly – he had put Severus immediately into hiding in a flat in Muggle London, where he had had to stay for nearly five months until Albus decided that it was safe enough for Severus to begin some more missions for the Order.

Indeed, Albus had been receiving reports from another spy in Voldemort's ranks (he wouldn't tell anyone who it was) that Voldemort had all but forgotten about Severus – he had more important things to worry about now that the Order of the Phoenix was getting stronger by the day. But anyway, Albus had protected him when (he couldn't deny it) he needed someone's help. And this was how he had to repay Albus – escorting poor little Miss Granger, because she likely couldn't cope on her own.

"She needs a guiding hand, Severus," Albus had told him the night before they had left for Italy. "Someone she respects, someone she looks up to."

Severus sighed in annoyance. He just had to be that someone, didn't he? It was just his luck.

He crinkled up his eyes in distaste. He was sweating profusely in the heat and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. And then, suddenly, he saw a mane of chestnut hair reflecting the sunlight, and a woman wearing a white top and long shorts. He walked quickly over to where Hermione was standing in front of a rather magnificent building and put a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as he touched her and she spun round, her hand immediately reaching to her shorts pocket, where he suspected her wand was currently residing.

To stop her from drawing her wand in public – Muggle public, no less – Severus spoke quickly to her.

"It's only me, Miss Granger."

She visibly relaxed and Severus almost forgot his previous anger towards her. She was barely an adult, after all. He should give her a little leeway.

His anger returned with a vengeance however, as her face crinkled up into dislike as she obviously recalled what had happened between them.

"Come on, we had better get to Capri," he ordered and walked off. When he turned back, he was surprised to see that she was actually following him, despite throwing glances over her shoulder at the building she had been stood in front of. He frowned slightly at it. He couldn't see what was so interesting about it. There was a rather impressive fresco on the front of the building depicting some religious scene, but as Severus was an atheist, it meant very little to him.

The reluctant couple made their way back through the hoards of morning shoppers to the town square, where Severus led Hermione over to the bus stop.

"We'll get the bus down to the harbour, shall we?" he asked almost courteously, but Hermione knew it wasn't really a question – just another order in disguise. "We can get a boat to Capri from there."

She followed him, however, because it was easier than refusing, her mind still pondering over the strange fresco on the wall of that beautiful building.

When the bus arrived, Hermione was still in a world of her own, unaware that Severus had been watching her face for the last few minutes. She looked thoughtful and slightly confused, as if she were thinking on some great mystery. When she didn't move to get on the bus, Severus grasped her wrist and tugged gently, and she looked up in confusion before realizing that it was only he and following him onto the crowded bus.

The bus looked as though it was already carrying more people than it should, and Hermione and Severus had to stand extremely close to each other to even fit on it. As they stood together, Hermione clinging on for dear life to the bar by her side as the bus hurtled round sharp corners, she couldn't help but notice how intimately close she was to Severus – just like that morning in the bed.

She blushed as she noticed something she hadn't wanted to think about this morning – Severus' body was warm and hard against the softness of her own body and the feeling wasn't unpleasant.

'Far from it,' she thought and a bright flush fled over her cheeks and down her chest.

Severus looked down at her curiously, wondering what she was thinking about that had made her redden so strongly all of a sudden. He supposed it was just a natural reaction to being pressed up close to someone who one didn't know very well, especially when that person happened to be an ex-Professor.

He couldn't help noticing as he looked down at her that his suspicions on the plane had been entirely correct – this was definitely a body he would like to see and feel more of.

Severus berated himself as soon as he thought that – she was his ex-pupil and nearly twenty years younger than him. And besides, he had neither the time nor the inclination for lovers in his life anymore. Well, that was a lie, he admitted to himself; he certainly had the inclination, but the practicalities of the matter would never work out. He was barely in one place for more than a few days at the moment, and his previous life as a double agent meant that the only person he could have a relationship with – even a sexual one – would be someone who he could trust implicitly. In other words, someone from the Order, and somehow he doubted that any of the female Order members who were even remotely close to his own age would embrace a relationship with him. Not least due to the fact that he had either gone to school with or taught most of them.

Just at that moment, the bus gave a huge jolt as it sped down the road leading to the harbour; it had nearly collided with another bus that was coming up the hill – on the wrong side of the road. As horns bibbed and insults were thrown through the drivers' windows, Hermione felt a hand on her wrist. Expecting it to be Severus trying to steady her (perhaps there was a gentleman lurking in there somewhere) she looked up at him, ready to thank him. But he was staring out of the window they were standing by, his arms resolutely crossed across his chest.

Hermione turned around in surprise, fear niggling slightly at her. As she did so the hand fell away from her wrist, and she saw behind her a short, skinny, deeply tanned man with a sly looking face and a pointed nose leering at her. Hermione looked away quickly, and without realizing, moved slightly closer to Severus, who didn't notice her movement towards him either.

Fear clutched suddenly at Hermione's heart as she heard a low growling sound coming from behind her, like the noise a dog makes it its throat when it sees a rival dog. But she knew instinctively that the sickening sound was coming from the man. Then she felt a hand on her arm again, but this time there were nails scratching along her skin, making her shiver in horror.

The growling got louder and Hermione realized that it was coming from the man's throat. She ripped her hand away from him and, without thinking, placed it on Severus' chest, making a scared sound in her throat and turning fully into Severus' body as she did so.

Severus realized at that moment what was going on.

"Permesso lei da solo!" he snarled, and despite the people pressed up against them from all angles, he managed to manoeuvre them around so that his back was to the man, his body between him and Hermione.

Hermione sobbed in relief and buried her face in Severus' chest, unbelievably glad that he was with her – she didn't know what she would have done if she had been alone. She shivered – she could still feel the disgusting man's nails scraping along her skin.

Sensing her unease and total discomfort, Severus allowed himself to slip an arm around her waist. As he did so, she snuggled into him until they were pressed tight against each other. Hermione was so thankful that he was here, holding her. That man had scared her so much – he had moved away through the crowded bus now, but the feel of him stroking her still lingered, and as much as she tried to block it out, she could still hear his growling in her ears. She clutched at the material of Severus' t-shirt with her fingers.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked her, tilting her head up to meet his gaze and speaking to her in the gentlest, softest voice she had ever heard him use. She simply nodded and rested her head back on his chest, not wanting to contemplate what had happened any longer.

Severus allowed her to lean against him. When he had heard the disgusting animalistic growling coming from the man behind Hermione, he had immediately feared it was a Death Eater who had discovered where they were. He had the misfortunate to know more than a few Death Eaters who had cannibalistic tendencies. He had been forced to watch this at first hand at more Dark Revels than he wanted to remember. However, when he looked over Hermione's shoulder, he had realized it was just a normal man - as normal as a man who has a penchant for growling at and stroking young women until they were scared out of their wits could be.

Feeling her shivering still as the bus pulled into the side of the road by the harbour, Severus reached down and took her hand, slightly surprised when she allowed him to, and led her off the bus. Instead of going over to the harbour, however, Severus walked over to a sheltered and shaded wall nearby and, placing his hands around Hermione's waist, he lifted her up to sit on it so her eye line was level with his.

She gasped slightly as he did so, amazed that he could lift her with so little effort. She knew she wasn't exactly the lightest girl around – for the past couple of years she had been eating too much chocolate and not doing nearly enough exercise. She supposed she did it as a reaction to the fact that they might all die at any minute – she might as well enjoy the things she liked while she still could. Severus looked her in the eye and asked her again if she was all right. She nodded.

"I'm OK," she whispered. "It just scared me. I thought it was a…"

"I know," he replied in that gentle, soft voice. "I did as well. But it wasn't, I'm sure of it."

He looked away at that and glanced quickly at his watch before stepping back slightly. It was only then that he realised that he had literally been standing between her spread legs, one hand still on her hip after he had lifted her. He realised with a jolt that without even trying, they probably looked exactly like a married couple on holiday. Holding out a hand, he helped her down off the wall.

"Come on, let's get on a boat."

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews. Rough translations:

'Un doppio' – A double.

'L'amore attrae l'avversione, ma l'avversione attrae l'avversione' - Love attracts hate, but hate attracts hate.

'Permesso lei da solo' – Leave her alone!


	3. Part 3

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Just to clarify, when I said that the story is set prior to HBP, I meant that whilst I have read the book and the story is technically set after the events of HBP, I have basically ignored what happened in the book for the purposes of this story. Enjoy!

"Professor?"

"Hmmm?"

"There is a man over there who keeps staring at us. I think he suspects something's not right, Professor," Hermione whispered as they queued up to get onto a boat that would take them over to the Isle of Capri.

Severus casually threw a glance over his shoulder. Hermione was right – there was a man stood a few people back in the queue who had his eyes fixed on them.

He was tall and dark (as most Italians were), and was wearing jeans and a white cotton shirt, sunglasses balanced on a head of black curls, a newspaper in his hand. He looked normal enough, except for the unblinking way in which he was staring at them, as if to unravel some great mystery.

Severus leant his head close to Hermione's and made it look like he was whispering some affectionate term in her ear.

"We need to really pretend that we're married," he muttered, slightly resentfully. "Don't jump when I do this."

And with that he slipped his arm tight around her waist, before allowing his hand to wander slowly downwards until he reached her bottom. He rested his hand there, stroking her derriere slightly with his thumb. Hermione gasped almost silently as he did so, but didn't jump, and Severus was impressed when she managed to react appropriately – she slid her own arm around his waist and leant up on tip-toes to kiss his cheek softly.

Severus closed his eyes momentarily as he felt her lips come into contact with his cheek. Her lips were warm and soft and for some reason unknown to him, the gentle contact sent shivers racing down his spine. He hadn't felt a touch like that in longer than he cared to think about. He turned to her and put his other arm around her as well so they were embracing loosely, and commanded in her ear:

"Laugh now."

Hermione did as he told her, leaning slightly away from him so she could see his face and giggling, as though they had just shared a lovers joke, her other hand coming to rest naturally on his chest. She smiled up at him, and in order to keep the pretence going, he smiled what he hoped was an indulgent-looking smile down at her.

She surprised him then by reaching up and pulling his sunglasses off of his nose so she could see his eyes properly before tucking them into the back pocket of his shorts. His eyes were dark and unreadable, although Hermione could see a hint of a challenge lurking there. Who knew Severus Snape could be so playful when he wanted to be?

In return to her antics with his glasses, Severus raised an eyebrow at her and allowed his other hand to slide around her body and down to her delectable bottom. He shoved his hand into the back pocket of her shorts and smirked slightly as he felt Hermione shiver next to him.

Feeling as though he was goading her to be even more daring, Hermione slipped her hands up his chest and round his neck, one hand stroking the soft skin she found there as her other hand played with his long black hair. She found, that whilst it always looked greasy, it was actually soft and silky to the touch and she didn't mind touching it in the least. Hermione suppressed a tired yawn and leaned her head against his chest. As she did so, one of his own hands left her bottom (she was glad – that was the part of her body that she was least comfortable with) and started stroking her hair, his hand warm against her scalp.

They stayed that way, Severus sneaking glances at the man who was still staring at them over the top of Hermione's head until the people ahead of them in the queue began to board the boat. Severus pulled his hands away from her bottom, and laughingly removed Hermione's own arms from his neck, where she tried to hang like a monkey upon him. She was playing the part of an affectionate wife rather well he had to admit. He smiled down at her – a genuine smile this time – and was surprised to see her smiling back up at him, her whole face lit up.

As the queue continued to move forward, Severus reached down and grabbed Hermione's hand, leading her up to the edge of the harbour. He then courteously helped her cross the gab between the harbour and the boat, and once on the ship, he put a guiding hand on her back and thrust her forwards into the crowds of people.

"Keep walking, keep walking," he urged quietly, glancing back over his shoulder. The man was still on the quay, but he was moving through the crowds, trying to get onto the boat as quickly as possible – it was obvious that he had lost sight of them and was desperately trying to find them again amongst the people boarding the boat. Severus continued pushing Hermione through the hoards of people until they reached the other side of the boat, where he stopped and allowed Hermione to stand against the railings of the open-air boat and look out across the calm ocean. He stood directly behind her, a hand resting on the rails either side of her body, as he continued to look around behind him for the man who seemed so intent on watching their every move.

Hermione breathed in the fresh salt air and felt the ever-present blush creeping up her cheeks. God! She had taken that pretence way too far – surely it would never look realistic now. Her blush deepened as she felt Severus press himself up against her back. He was warm and hard and strong and Hermione felt a strange desire to plunge her hands back into his silky hair.

For Severus' part, he felt his own strange and unwanted desire to place his hands back against Hermione's bottom. He had never felt like this about his previous lovers – he supposed it was because Hermione wasn't actually his lover. He always enjoyed a challenge, but he feared he had let himself get a little too involved in this game. But still, this slip of a girl had the most delectable arse he had ever seen, or indeed, felt! Gritting his teeth together against the ridiculous urge to touch her again, he glanced over his shoulder – the man was nowhere to be seen now.

Once all the passengers had safely boarded the ship, the boat pulled slowly away from the harbour. Realising that they were stood next to a large box containing life jackets that other people were already sitting upon, Hermione slid out of the barrier made by Severus' hands on either side of her and tried to push herself up onto the box which was slightly taller than waist height.

She found, however, that it was too hard to lift her own body up that high and was just about to give up when she suddenly felt warm hands around her waist, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself being hoisted easily up onto the box.

She looked down slightly and her hands fell onto Severus' shoulders, keeping him close to her despite the fact he had not tried to move away. Her legs had opened of their own accord again as he had lifted her, as though she suffered an unconscious urge to wrap her legs about his waist, and so he was, once again, stood directly between her legs, his lower body pressed tight against the box, his upper body pressed tight against her.

"Thank you," she murmured softly. He inclined his head at her.

"Quite all right, Hermione," he muttered. He then went to move away from her and back to stand by the railings of the boat, but as he did so, Hermione saw over the top of Severus' head that the man was approaching them again. Realising Severus was pulling away from her, Hermione did the only thing she could think of – she reached out with both hands, grasped his face and brought it to hers, pressing her lips tightly against his.

Severus stood stock still for a moment in shock as Hermione kissed him. Her expression had told him that she had seen the man again, and he had to admit, she reacted quite well in a crisis – if the man saw them now, he would likely believe that they were lovers.

Coming to his senses suddenly, and realising Hermione's lips were still on his, Severus quickly put his arms around her and took control of the kiss, realising she didn't know what to do. He moved his lips gently against hers until she relaxed slightly, and then, before he could get a grip on himself, his tongue darted out and traced the seam of her lips.

She gasped softly into his mouth, but her lips fell open to allow his tongue entrance, and he snaked it into her mouth softly and smoothly, finding her own tongue and caressing it. His eyes fell closed as she responded to him in a deliciously innocent way, and one of his hands managed to find its way back down to her deliciously rounded bottom.

Hermione closed her eyes blissfully as she felt his hand upon her bottom once again. She had never been kissed like this before – had barely been kissed at all – it was like something from a film. She melted into his arms, not caring that there were hundreds of people all around them – suddenly all that mattered was that Severus Snape kept kissing her in that way that made her feel weak all over.

Severus came to his senses suddenly as he heard a wolf-whistle, followed by the laughter of teenaged boys, and pulled away, panting slightly. He looked over at them crossly, which just served to increase their amusement. Looking swiftly over his shoulder, he realised the man had once again disappeared.

He turned back to Hermione to see her biting her lip and looking rather nervous. Knowing this could give them away if the man returned, Severus leant forward and pressed a small, chaste kiss against her soft lips before trailing more kisses up her jaw to her ear, feeling her shiver again and again.

"Don't look so nervous," he muttered as he reached her ear, pressing a kiss against her earlobe, which made Hermione want to throw her head back with the pleasure of it. Instead, she nodded as he drew back from her and pushed a bit of hair that had fallen in his face out of his way.

"Thank you," he murmured darkly, and although he had been going to move away, he stayed where he was for the rest of the journey, her knees still on either side of his hips.

As they approached Capri, the boat slowed down and they both had the opportunity to admire the beauty of the Island. They could see Capri town at the top of the hill that made up the central part of the Island. The view was amazing, with the sparkling turquoise sea beneath and the pure blue sea above.

Hermione sighed contentedly, despite the embarrassment still lingering within her. After all, this was just another part of her mission for the Order, she told herself – she couldn't let Professor Dumbledore down. And she had never been the sort of person to do anything by halves anyway.

They soon reached the harbour at Capri and Severus helped Hermione down from the box and, holding her hand, led her off the boat with a quick, "Grazie", at the cabin boy.

Once on dry land again, Hermione and Severus were quickly able to loose themselves amongst the busy and excited holidaymakers who were milling around the harbour. Severus quickly led Hermione over to a dark corner by the harbour wall and wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck so they could talk without that man, or anybody else, suspecting anything of them.

"Do you think he is a Death Eater?" Hermione whispered as she wrapped her own arms around Severus' neck.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice muffled in her neck. "It's a possibility. I think we should go up to the town – it's the only way to get to the Gardens of Augustus where the murder happened."

Hermione nodded in agreement and they set off together towards the tram station where they could get a ride up to the top of the hill.

When they eventually fought their way into a carriage, they found it to be even more crowded than the boat had been and there was only one small seat left in the corner of the carriage. Immediately, Severus sat down upon it and pulled Hermione onto his knee as if she were a child, his arms around her waist to keep her in place.

Hermione felt a slight bubble of anger rise up inside her at that – the man was no longer anywhere to be seen, and she vaguely resented being treated like that; as if she were no more than a child or a piece of baggage. Maybe she would have preferred to stand, but he couldn't even be bothered to ask. Or maybe it would have been nice for him to have been a gentleman and offered the seat to her first instead of automatically taking it himself.

By the time they reached the top of the hill and Severus pushed her unceremoniously off of his lap, Hermione was feeling distinctly frosty towards the man who was now striding ahead through Capri town, leaving her, as usual, to trail behind him.

As she walked through the town at her own pace, Hermione took the time to admire the gorgeous architecture of the town – there were some utterly gorgeous buildings in Italy, and she couldn't understand how Severus could walk so carelessly past them, not even pausing for a second. And the shops – Hermione wasn't the sort of girl whose life revolved around clothes or shopping, but she certainly enjoyed this activity now and again. She vowed to herself that were she ever rich, she would come back to Capri and treat herself to some of the gorgeous designer clothes she saw all around her.

When Hermione finally reached the other side of the town and therefore the Gardens of Augustus, Severus was waiting impatiently for her, leaning against some railings and smoking a cigarette. As he saw her draw near, he dropped the cigarette and ground it into the ground with his heel. Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Come on, the place is just down here," he told her in snappish tones and Hermione rolled her eyes, pleased to note that he appeared to be back to his normal self after that brief interlude of niceness. Nevertheless, she followed him down the steep path that led through the gardens and when he stopped and crouched down to inspect the ground near a clump of bushes, Hermione looked down over the steep cliff edge a few yards away and admired the jagged but beautiful rock formations carved by the sea thousands of years ago.

Suddenly, just as she was about to turn back to Severus, something grabbed her ankle and pulled hard so she fell down onto the ground. What she fell onto was too soft to be the ground however, and as she fell it made a slight grunt. Hermione looked up in surprise to see that she had landed atop Severus, but before she could say anything, he had pressed his lips passionately to hers.

He kissed her forcefully, plunging his tongue into her mouth as if trying to vent his anger on her. She tried to sit up but he wrapped his arms tightly around her preventing her from moving as he ravished her mouth.

A moment later, he pulled away suddenly and sat up beneath her, his narrowed eyes glancing around. As he did so Hermione noticed that there were embracing couples dotted all over the grassy areas of the Gardens. She also noticed with increasing embarrassment that she was directly straddling Severus' lap, her arms about his neck.

"He was here," Severus muttered, looking around them a little wildly. "I swear I…" he trailed off and, shaking his head slightly, looked at Hermione pointedly, telling her with his expression to get off of him. She scrambled to obey and he got up, gracefully unfolding his long limbs. Next to him, Hermione felt like the ugly little dumpling.

Without waiting to ask if she was all right or apologising for just grabbing her so abruptly, Severus strode off again, but Hermione stayed where she was. Something had caught her eye. Crouching down, she picked up a small piece of crumpled paper and spread it out on her knee.

'L'amore attrae l'avversione, ma l'avversione attrae l'avversione', it read and Hermione frowned, sure she had seen those words written somewhere else…

Her head jerked up, however, at the sound of Severus calling her impatiently. He was stood a few yards away, talking to an elderly Italian man. She dropped the piece of paper back under the bush and stood up, walking quickly over to Severus, knowing he would only get himself into a worse mood if she kept him waiting. A little niggling part of her hated herself for obeying him so docilely when he had been so vile to her.

"Ah, there you are," he said distractedly as he read a bit of paper in his hand. He looked up at her. "That man knew the man who was killed. He was called Giovanni. This was his address. I believe we may be able to find evidence there that will tell us whether or not he was a wizard."

And with that he was off again, and Hermione fought to catch up with his long strides, wanting nothing more than to go back to the hotel, have some lunch and a nice cool drink and then take a long dip in the pool.

It took the pair nearly half an hour to reach Giovanni's house. It was situated right on the top of the hill, in the opposite direction to the one they had just come from. By the time they reached the front door of the small villa, Hermione was exhausted; sweat pouring down her face and her breath coming in panting gasps as she fought for oxygen. Severus on the other hand had barely broken into a sweat – he looked as cool and as comfortable as a cucumber. Hermione glowered at him as he stalked around the house and rattled the doorknob, trying to find a way into the house. As he did so Hermione looked around in paranoia, sure the man would suddenly appear from behind a bush any minute.

Hermione almost laughed. It was so obvious he wasn't used to doing anything without magic. But then why would he be? He surprised her then though, because with one quick glance around to check nobody was about, Severus walked up to the door and slammed his shoulder against it, once, twice….

And the door swung open. A self-satisfied smirk on his face, Severus wandered casually through it, Hermione following him slowly as she gazed around herself. Giovanni may have only been dead a few days, but no one had lived in this house for a very long time.

The floorboards squeaked as they walked slowly through the house, Severus searching for any clues that could lead them to believe that Giovanni had been a wizard, and therefore, a likely target for Death Eaters. Everything in the house was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, and there were mouse droppings all over the floor. From the noises coming from above them, Hermione suspected there were also birds nesting in the roof.

Together, they searched the house from top to bottom – looking for anything that might be a definite clue – spell books, wizarding awards, a wand…

But it was to no avail. Two hours later they left the property, tired, despondent, dirty and no better off than they had been before. They walked miserably back down the path that had taken them up to the house, immensely glad that it was downhill all the way.

When they finally dragged their exhausted bodies onto the tram to go back down to the harbour, the sun was fading rapidly in the sky. Hermione was pleased that the tram was almost deserted for this trip – she and Severus were both able to have their own seat this time. The journey felt a lot longer than it had done that morning, and Hermione was glad when they were able to get off the cramped and airless vehicle.

Instead of heading over to the harbour to catch the boat back to the mainland however, Severus got off the tram and walked over to a café on the promenade and sat down, glaring at Hermione until she complied with his wishes and followed him over, sitting down opposite him at the small outside table he had chosen.

"What are you doing?" she asked in annoyance as he beckoned the waiter over.

"What does it look like, Miss Granger? Taking a dip in a pond? I'm having a drink, girl."

And with that he ordered two whiskeys and slumped back in his chair, raising a hand to rub his forehead. He was hot and tired and the headache forming between his eyes wasn't doing his mood any favours either. All he wanted to do was go back home, but from the lack of results they had gained today, it looked as though they would be staying at least a few more days in this wretched place.

Hermione watched Severus as their drinks arrived. He slugged back his in one gulp and then closed his eyes in apparent happiness. Moments later he opened them and frowned slightly at her. Her glass was still on the table, untouched.

"Drink up girl," he stated, smirking slightly at her and Hermione knew instinctively that he was challenging her to. She shook her head – they had missed lunch and she would only be dizzy and light-headed for the rest of the evening if she drank on an empty stomach. Not to mention the fact that it would probably make her seasick on the boat.

Severus just shrugged at her refusal and leaning over, picked up her glass and drank the honey-coloured liquid inside. Then he called over to the waiter for another drink.

Hermione sat silently opposite Severus as he drunk his way through glass after glass of whiskey. She had to admit though – he could hold his alcohol remarkable well – he must have had far too much to drink already but he barely seemed tipsy.

It was at this moment however, as Severus lurched up from his seat and muttered to her that they should get on a ferry, that Hermione noticed with a barely suppressed giggled that Severus was already developing a typical English man's tan – tanned forearms, neck and calves, and laughably pale upper arms, thighs and torso. Her smile faded however as she realised what it was that was different about Severus (she knew there had been something) - his left forearm was completely clear. It didn't show a trace of the Dark Mark.

'Must just be a very clever glamour,' she thought. 'There's certainly no doubt about whether or not he's got the ability to create such a complex and long-lasting spell.'

Leaving her seat and putting enough euros on the table to cover the bill and a small tip, Hermione followed Severus, too lost in her thoughts to get annoyed that he had just walked off and left her to pay for his drinks. She noticed that the amount of liquor he had consumed was now starting to show; as he walked he stumbled slightly now and again, and tended to veer off to the left sometimes.

She quickly caught up with him and grabbed his arm, tossing it around her shoulders to balance him, as he was walking perilously close to the side of the harbour, and she didn't trust him to not fall in. They reached the boarding area quickly and got on a boat with relative ease, Hermione showing their tickets to the cabin boy and glancing around to check that the man was no where to be seen.

Once on board the boat, Hermione propped Severus up against the box she had sat upon earlier and left him there so she could lean over the railings of the ship. She felt vaguely disgusted with his behaviour. Back at Grimmauld Place a year ago, Molly had once told Hermione that Severus drank a wretched amount – probably so he could forget about all his problems for once. She had divulged this after Hermione saw Severus go up to his room clutching a large bottle of Firewhiskey and a tumbler on one of the rare occasions when he stayed at the Order Headquarters. The next morning Molly and Hermione had found the empty bottle when they cleaned out the bins in the Headquarters and he had been in a vile mood for the rest of the following day, staying cooped up in his room with the light off, and only emerging for the cups of coffee that Hermione left outside his door. Annoyance long forgotten flared up in her as she remembered that, although he obviously didn't know it was her who had left the coffee, he had never said thank you to anyone for them – not even Molly, and she would have been the most likely candidate for such a gesture.

Then, she had felt sorry for him, realising that his drinking was just a coping mechanism – they all had them now that everyday was practically a fight for survival – Hermione ate as much chocolate as she could, Harry and Ron went out to Muggle clubs every night and took girls back to their flats with them, Molly spent all day cleaning Grimmauld Place from top to bottom even when it wasn't dirty, and then spent all evening locked up in the sitting room with her family, after making dinner for all the members staying at the Headquarters at that particular time.

But now…now his drinking just seemed pathetic – the pathetic need of a man in his forties who was disillusioned with life and couldn't be bothered to carry on fighting. She knew this description wasn't true of Severus in the slightest, but after his drinking tonight she couldn't help thinking it. And his smoking. The combination of the two meant that Hermione barely recognised the man who had terrorised her and her friends in his dungeon classroom for so long all those years ago.

Sighing slightly, Hermione looked back to Capri as the boat quickly crossed the distance to the mainland. It looked like they would be spending more time there than they had planned.

Through his drink-addled brain, Severus found himself staring once again at Hermione's delightful rear-end. She was bent over slightly to lean on the railings, and Severus found himself moving forwards almost without realising what he was doing. He sidled up to her back and pressed himself fully along it.

Hermione jumped as she felt Severus push himself up against her back. She looked quickly around, assuming that Severus had seen the man following them again. She frowned however, as she realised he was nowhere to be seen – indeed, no one seemed to be paying them any attention whatsoever.

"Severus, the man's not here," she muttered to him in confusion as she felt his hands on her bottom again and his lips briefly touching the back of her neck. His touch made her shiver, and he chuckled darkly to himself as she did so.

"I know," he murmured; slipping one hand around her waist and up, up, until he…

Anger flared up inside Hermione as his hand touched her breast. Who the hell was he to take advantage of her like this? She spun round in his arms, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but before she was able to, he fastened his lips onto hers.

Unlike the kisses they had shared earlier in the day, there was no unleashed passion or sweet gentleness in this kiss – it was a drunken man's kiss: wet and sloppy and entirely off-putting. And his hands were still roaming all over her body as if he had a right to do that!

In contrast to Hermione's outrage, Severus (in his drunken state) was feeling rather pleased with himself. He chuckled into the kiss – he had been so right when he thought that this was a body he wanted to get his hands on! Indeed, he wanted to get more than his hands on her…as he thought this he felt blood begin to rush to his nether regions and he groaned into her mouth.

Hermione felt the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently into her tummy and she wanted to shriek. Instead, she managed to detach his lips from hers, and, pulling back with an expression of utmost fury on her normally placid features, she slapped him hard around the face.

Severus stumbled back in shock, his hand pressed against his face where Hermione had slapped him. The slap served to sober him up almost completely, and instead of lust for the girl stood fuming in front of him, Severus felt a sudden desire to walk up to her, grab her throat and throttle her.

He turned away from her, not wanting to look at her and stood with his arms folded across his chest, flexing his jaw slightly. Despite his anger, he had to give it to her that she could fight back rather well should she ever need to.

Hermione turned away from him as well, watching as the boat slowed and manoeuvred into Sorrento harbour. All she wanted to do now was go home and get into her bed and cry. And she wanted her mum; she wanted her mum so badly…

Brushing tears away from her face angrily, Hermione stalked off the ship, not bothering to even look back and see if Severus was coming too. He was, although he walked a few paces behind her, keeping his strides deliberately short, and when they got on a bus to take them back to the hotel, they sat at opposite ends.

Hermione stared determinedly out of the window, as Severus did the same at the other end of the bus, neither wanting to look or talk to the other. Hermione's turbulent emotions ricocheted around in her head – she wanted her mum, she wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh with the irony of it all, she wanted to scream at him for being such an arrogant pig-head…

For Severus' part, he would have been quite happy to never see the girl again. Despite the anger he felt towards her, he also felt embarrassment niggling inside him – he had made a fool of himself. The rational part of his brain didn't blame her for slapping him, had the situation been the other way around, he would probably have done something much worse. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure that he would have turned Hermione away had she been the one to come onto him. There was that delectable arse after all…

By the time they disembarked the bus outside their hotel, Severus and Hermione had managed to work themselves up into ridiculous states of anger and annoyance, caused by their confused and contradicting emotions. As soon as she stepped off the bus, Hermione stormed off up the stairs to their room.

Severus couldn't bring himself to follow immediately. The last thing he wanted to do was sleep in the same bed as that girl after he had made such a fool of himself. Pulling out his cigarettes he lit one and allowed it to relax him slightly. He took his time finishing it, and then walked as slowly as he possibly could up to their room.

As he entered, however, he was slapped in the face yet again by a pile of his clothes, thrown by a crazed looking Hermione who was stood by the bed, her hands on her hips and his clothes in piles around the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shrieked as Severus closed the door behind him. He winced momentarily, but then his own anger flared up inside him at her attitude.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared and Hermione looked taken aback for a minute. She soon retorted though.

"Throwing you out, you bastard! Do you seriously think I'm going to share a room, let alone a bed, with you?"

Severus strode forward, red blinding his vision. He grabbed her forearm.

"Hermione –"

"I think you'll find that it's Miss Granger to you, _Professor_! Get your hands off of me, you pervert!" she screamed at him and Severus raised his hand, ready to hit her as she stared up at him defiantly, as if daring him to do his worst.

In their anger, neither of them heard the small pop of apparation.

"I'm sorry, I appear to interrupting something."

Hermione and Severus' heads spun round in shock, still forming a repulsive sort of tableau.

"Dumbledore!"

"Albus!"

"Severus, Hermione. I see you're getting along well."

Severus' hand dropped lamely to his side as he came to his senses upon seeing Dumbledore stood calmly in their hotel room. Hermione moved away from him and his grip on her wrist went limp, allowing her to escape. They now both wore expressions of embarrassment.

Severus cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'm afraid we haven't had much luck so far, Albus, but…"

Severus trailed off as Dumbledore held up a hand to cut him off. Severus and Hermione noticed for the first time how tired and old Dumbledore looked and they knew instinctively that Dumbledore hadn't come to ask them about their progress in their mission or to give them further instructions.

"My children, I'm afraid I have some very bad news."


	4. Part 4

"Kingsley Shacklebolt is dead."

There was no way that either Severus or Hermione could have prepared themselves to have this information bestowed upon them, and it hit them both like a thunderbolt.

Hermione's reaction to the heart-breaking news was almost immediate; after a moment's horrified silence, she gasped in shock and a hand flew up to cover her mouth. Seconds later she descended into tears and sat back down onto the bed as though in a trance, silent sobs making her shoulders shake.

Severus just closed his eyes momentarily. He felt remorse – of course he did – but at the same time, the senior members of the Order of the Phoenix had been suspecting another death for months now. This killing was long overdue. But of course that was deliberate on Voldemort's part – make them wait so they would fall into a sense of false security so he could horrify them all the more when the death eventually came. But of course, Hermione, as one of the younger members of the group knew nothing of the Order's worries for everyone's safety. So to her, this was another random death – she must think it was just bad luck that Shacklebolt had been killed.

In reality, it was far from bad luck or a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Severus immediately suspected that this death was a warning from Voldemort of worse things to come.

He unconsciously reached down and grasped the now clear skin of his left forearm tightly. Despite the fact that he had spent hours concealing the Dark Mark before this mission, he still felt its burning presence beneath the glamour. His hand fell away limply.

Coming to his senses as he opened his eyes and saw Dumbledore looking at Hermione with a sad and somewhat helpless expression in his eyes.

Despite Severus' suspicions that Hermione was naïve enough to consider this an almost accidental killing, Hermione's mind also immediately went to Voldemort. She had realised early on in life that Voldemort wasn't like normal people in the slightest, and despite Ron's continual assurances that Harry and the Order would easily defeat Voldemort before any more deaths happened, Hermione had never been able to bring herself to believe that. She wasn't even sure if Ron himself really believed it.

Realising that Dumbldore was regarding him almost expectantly, Severus strode forward and grasped the older man's elbow, turning him away from the tearful woman on the bed.

"What happened?" he asked gruffly, a serious expression on his face.

However, before Dumbledore could even open his mouth to answer, Severus felt a hand grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt and pulling him backwards with an almighty jerk. It was, of course, Hermione.

"Don't you dare try to leave me out of this, Severus Snape!" she snarled up at him, her face red and splodgey.

"I wasn't attempting to, Miss Granger," he protested angrily, his voice raising. "I merely thought to –"

"I apologise, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione interrupted Severus, sidestepping him and addressing Dumbledore formally. Severus gritted his teeth against the insults welling up inside him just waiting to be expelled, and turned to them, planting as neutral a smile as he could on his habitually stern features.

"I've told you before, Hermione, please call me Albus."

Dumbledore smiled a sad smile down at Hermione before looking up to meet Severus' gaze.

"There was a Death Eater raid at the Ministry of Magic. Ten killed all together. We have a few witnesses who I have been talking to this afternoon. It has become apparent from them that the Death Eaters were looking for anyone who they knew to be openly affiliated with me and killed anyone who stood in their way."

At this point he looked kindly down at Hermione, who had descended into tears once again.

"Kingsley is a terrible loss, my child, but in this time of darkness we should find the courage within ourselves to be glad that he was the only Order member to suffer at the hands of the Death Eaters this time."

Hermione nodded, brushing her tears away. She knew that Dumbledore was right – Kingsley would be sorely missed on a personal level, but they would be able to go on without him. It was a harsh thing to say, but others could easily take over his job. If Dumbledore or Moody or even Severus had been killed on the other hand, the Order would have felt the loss a lot more deeply. Dumbledore shifted his gaze back to Severus, who was stood like a silent, unmoving shadow behind Hermione's back.

"I need you both to come back to Grimmauld Place immediately so we can assess the situation. We don't know what might happen next. If you could pack as quickly as possible, I should think it would be all right if you left the key on the table rather than having to make up a cover story to the reception…yes, yes, we'll do that. Now Severus, I don't believe that Hermione is a confidant enough apparater – no offence, my dear - to take her luggage with her so would you do the honours?"

Severus nodded tersely as Hermione moved away from them to start shoving their things into suitcases. As time was clearly of the essence, she didn't bother to separate their belongings; she just flung them into the cases, her clothes mingling with his.

"Good boy," Dumbledore said as Severus nodded long-sufferingly. In a whisper, he added;

"Don't be too harsh on Miss Granger, Severus. She has had an extremely tough year."

He raised his voice slightly here so Hermione would be able to hear him.

"I'll see you both at Grimmauld Place shortly."

And with that he pushed his glasses a little higher up his nose in a rather businesslike manner. His face wore an expression of supreme concentration for a moment and then he disapparated with a small pop.

Once Dumbledore had departed, Severus strode over to where Hermione was packing the cases, and stooped so he could hand her some of the clothes that were strewn all over the bedroom floor from where she had thrown them crossly earlier.

He noticed that his nightclothes and the clothes he had dropped on the floor the previous night had also been left in crumpled piles on the carpet. After living practically a lifetime at Hogwarts where he was basically waited on hand and foot by submissive house elves, he had completely forgotten that he would have to tidy up after himself.

He supposed that was why the room he usually occupied at Grimmauld Place was always so messy when he stayed there. Everything would just remain where he had dropped it until the end of his stay, when he would wave his wand so all his possessions were crammed into bags or cases.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered moments later, sounding shy as he gave her a pile of his underpants to put away.

Embarrassment soared through her as she realised these must be some of the things she had thrown about the room in disgust earlier. In all her life, she had never thought for a minute that she would ever end up touching a pair of her ex-Professor's black cotton boxer shorts.

They were soon packed and Severus placed the key to the room on the now empty dressing table – it had been littered with papers, shampoo and, for some strange reason, more of Severus' underpants – and hoped that the maid would find it there the next morning. He picked up her case and his as Hermione slung her backpack over her shoulder.

Severus couldn't help but notice that her suitcase was suspiciously light for a woman's. When he had been forced to carry the luggage of females before – his mother's and sister's when they had come to stay with him for one suicidal week during a summer holiday; and when his ex-partner, Lucia, had impetuously moved in with him at Hogwarts for a weekend after an argument with _Daddy_ (that had been the end of that relationship) – he had found that their cases had been ridiculously heavy, no doubt weighed down with all the paraphernalia women usually felt it necessary to carry around with them and then inflict on their poor sons or lovers.

Hermione's case on the other hand appeared to be satisfactorily light, but he couldn't help suspecting that she had stashed her more weighty possessions in the rucksack over her shoulder.

It was then that he noticed that she was looking at him curiously.

"Spit it out, girl," he encouraged in rough tones, somehow knowing that she wanted to ask him a question. She had always got that rather nervous, yet curious expression on her face when she had been itching to ask him a know-it-all question or answer one of his own questions in that pompous manner of hers back in the days when she had been a snivelling little eleven year old in his Potions classes.

"I was just wondering why you haven't shrunk the cases, Sir."

'Because I'm stupid, that's why,' Severus thought crossly, annoyed that he hadn't thought of that himself. He had been too immersed in thinking about her. A small shudder fled through him as he realized that, and he quickly vowed to himself that he wouldn't allow her to distract him like that again. He quickly made up an excuse.

"Just because we are apparating to London, Miss Granger, it doesn't automatically mean that we should use as much magic as we possibly can. Apparating is still a risk, and we should avoid alerting anyone's attention to our presence as much as we can," he said in a condescending tone.

Hermione seemed to take this as a valid excuse, as she didn't challenge him about it. As there seemed nothing left to say, they both concentrated hard for a moment, wearing simultaneous expressions of seriousness.

One small pop after another indicated to the empty room that they had successfully disapparated away.

Moments later they reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Hermione feeling sick and swaying slightly as she always did after apparating.

"Oh Hermione, thank Merlin you're safe! I was so worried about you after what happened to poor Kingsley!"

And before Hermione could even see what was happening – though she could guess - motherly arms had been flung around her and her face was squished into Molly Weasely's shoulder. She smelled wonderful – of fresh baking and polish and other fantastically homey smells.

Severus rolled his eyes at this hyperbolic display of female affection and stalked over to the kitchen cupboard, drawing out an unopened bottle of firewhiskey. He slumped down into one of the hard-backed kitchen chairs and flung his feet up onto another. He took his time unscrewing the bottle, savouring the anticipation of a hard-earned drink (another) after a day like today, but before he was able to pour out that first delicious drop of the amber liquid, the bottle was whipped out of his hand with surprising force.

"Now, now, Severus, you don't want any of that rubbish," Molly proclaimed as she put the lid on the bottle and shoved it back in its cupboard.

Hermione almost laughed out loud at the disappointed look on Severus' face as he turned to watch Molly make off with his prized whiskey. If I had been anyone other than Severus, Hermione wouldn't have bothered to hold in her laughter, but she knew that Severus wouldn't be happy if she openly laughed in his face.

Instead of the alcohol, Molly banged a large mug of tea down in front of Severus.

"Have that instead. Now you two, is bacon and eggs all right for dinner?"

By the time that Severus had been properly fed and watered, he was actually quite glad that he hadn't drunk any of that alcohol. The meal had filled him up nicely – neither he nor Hermione had eaten since breakfast that morning and that was hours ago. Severus felt slightly bad about that – it should have been his responsibility to make sure she was fed - she was barely more than a child after all. His guilt bloomed even more when he saw how quickly Hermione wolfed down her food.

Just as Severus had leant back in his chair with his third cup of tea, feeling blissfully full and allowing himself to relax slightly for once, Dumbledore walked tiredly into the room, shedding his cloak as he did. Severus went to stand up.

"Sit down my boy, sit down."

Dumbledore waved a hand at Hermione and Severus who had both started up when Dumbledore entered the room. He accepted a cup of tea from Molly and sat down heavily in the chair next to Severus. There was an expectant silence as Dumbledore drank slowly from his cup.

"So," he said eventually and Hermione looked up from her lap where she had been fiddling agitatedly with a loose button on her shorts. She and Severus were both still wearing the shorts and t-shirts they had been wearing in Italy. "I gather you discovered nothing of note on your little excursion?"

Severus didn't reply, so Hermione shook her head in answer. Dumbledore sighed.

"Well, it appears we have more pressing matters on our hands now anyway. I want you both to stay here, at least for tonight – I am concerned there may be another Death Eater attack, and I want to be sure as many people as possible are safe. I fear that Kinsley Shacklebolt's death is just the start of our troubles. "

Hermione and Severus both nodded in compliance, not feeling it was fair to argue with this man who so obviously had their best interests at heart. But secretly all they both wanted to do was to return to their respective homes and get some rest in their own beds. Severus agreed with Dumbledore about Shacklebolt's death – the man had only confirmed his earlier suspicions.

Hermione sighed inwardly. She hadn't been back to her flat in weeks and although she had bought the place only grudgingly as a base after leaving Hogwarts (it was located in one of the less salubrious areas of the London suburbs), Hermione found herself missing her home comforts now that she was basically forbidden from going there.

Severus was experiencing similar feelings to Hermione – despite having no permanent residence of his own. He had always lived at Hogwarts until he had been forced to rent a flat in Muggle London for his own safety. It had been immensely irritating for him to have to leave his job as Potions Master at Hogwarts for over a year whilst he lived in hiding, doing paperwork for Dumbledore and brewing Potions in the cramped flat.

However, a few months ago, he had returned to his chambers at Hogwarts, and although he couldn't commence teaching until the beginning of the new school year in September, he had enjoyed being back at the castle – the only place he had ever really thought of as home.

"Excellent." Dumbledore interrupted their thoughts. "I'm sure Molly will manage to make you up a bed somewhere for the night. Severus, we will need to discuss things in the morning, but for now I insist that you both get some sleep."

As he spoke, Dumbledore got up from the table, placed his cup in the sink and grabbed his cloak, tossing it around his shoulders.

"You look exhausted, my dear," he said as he passed Hermione.

Then, without another word, just a quick, weary smile at them both, he left the kitchen and they heard the small pop of apparation in the hallway. There was silence in the room for one long moment.

"Well," said Molly as jovially as she could manage considering the events of the day, but she tailed off before she could say anything of note.

Hermione broke the rather awkward silence that ensued.

"Are Ron and Harry here?"

Molly looked at her in surprise.

"No, dear! Didn't Dumbledore tell you? They've gone to Peru with Ginny to stay with Charlie and the Dragons for a while." She lowered her voice despite the fact that they were the only ones in the room. "I think Dumbledore felt they needed a break. I'm so glad they're safe with Charlie now this has happened." Her smile faded. A frown crossed her face a moment later.

"Now, I'm not sure if there are any rooms free," she murmured to herself, back to business – clearly not wanting to dwell on the events of the day or her concerns for Ron, Harry and Ginny's welfare. "Let me nip upstairs and check."

And she exited the room quickly, leaving Severus and Hermione alone at the kitchen table. Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly, not knowing what to say to this man after all that had happened that day. She was taken by surprise a minute later as he spoke softly to her.

"Are you all right?"

She stared at him for a moment, stunned that he would even bother to ask her that.

"I'm fine," she said in barely more than a whisper, her breath caught in her throat. But he heard and jerked his head in response, as if to say 'Good'. They stared at each other for a moment that seemed almost endless. It was shattered however, by the arrival of Molly in the kitchen again, holding a pile of blankets, the corners of which were trailing along the ground. The heavy oak door banged unceremoniously against the wall to herald her arrival.

"Now, Hermione dear, I'll put you in your usual room, but I'm afraid Alastor's already asleep in your normal room, Severus, and there aren't any other free rooms, so I'm going to have to put you on the sofa in the library…"

"Is anybody sharing my room, Molly?" Hermione interrupted the older woman, looking up at her earnestly.

"Well, no dear," Molly started. "But I don't see how that's –"

"Severus can stay in my room with me," Hermione said firmly, raising her chin in a defiant manner.

"Well, I –" Molly stuttered. She clearly thought that this was completely inappropriate, but it seemed she couldn't think of a reasonable argument why Severus shouldn't share Hermione's room. But it just wasn't right for a man and a woman to share a room like that!

"Well, if you're sure, dear."

Hermione nodded her head firmly, putting an end to the matter.

"Severus? Would you mind?" Molly asked, clearly hoping that he would refuse and say he would prefer the sofa in the library. Instead, he unfolded himself from his chair and took the blankets that were dangling from Molly's arms.

"It's fine, Molly. You go to bed – Hermione and I can sort this out."

Molly stared at him in surprise for a minute. Then she seemed to come to her senses and she smiled at them both, but she still seemed slightly uncomfortable.

"Right, well, I'll leave you two to sort yourselves out."

As she went to leave, Hermione gave her a kiss on the cheek and a rather shy smile, murmuring,

"Thanks, Molly," as she did so.

Molly paused momentarily at the door and looked at Hermione uneasily. Hermione smiled encouragingly at her to try and soothe her worries.

"Goodnight, Molly."

"Goodnight. Goodnight, Severus."

He nodded briefly at her, and, after one final glance at the two of them, she disappeared, shutting the door with a soft click. Barely a second passed before Severus moved to the door as well, performing _Mobilcorpus_ on their cases with a wave of his hand. When he was out in the corridor and realised that Hermione hadn't followed him like he expected she would, he turned on his heel and stuck his head back around the door.

"Come on, you'd better show me where we're sleeping tonight."

And with that he disappeared again, his footsteps resounding as he walked on the creaky floorboards of the stairs. Hermione followed slowly, taking care to tiptoe so she didn't awake the portrait of Mrs Black that still hung in the hallway. She wasn't sure how she felt about sharing a room with Severus again. It had been weird enough in a foreign place, but now she would be spending time with him in the room she had always shared with Ginny.

When she reached the First Floor landing, Severus was stood waiting for her, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor. She walked straight past him and opened the door to her room. It looked exactly as it had always done – small, dark, a bed on either side of the room with a cabinet in between them and a window over that. The only thing that was different about it of course was the fact that Severus Snape was now stood in it, waving his hand quickly to send their clothes flying into the wardrobe and chest of drawers from their cases, before delving into his pocket and drawing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, having dropped the bedding on the dusty floor.

God! He was such a typical man. So unthinking and uncaring towards everyone else – he was clearly obsessed with himself. He lit the cigarette and pushed it between his lips, closing his eyes in apparent pleasure as he did so, despite the fact that this was her room and she had made it quite clear that she abhorred smoking. She coughed pointedly. He ignored her.

Her temper flaring up inside of her as Severus moved over to the window, leaning casually against the wall, Hermione leant down and picked up the bedding he had so thoughtlessly dropped and began to make up the bed on the left hand side of the room for him.

"You don't have to do that, you know," came a silky voice in her ear. Hermione spun round to face the speaker, and Severus was surprised to see that her face had gone a very unflattering shade of salmon pink due to her bottled up anger.

"Why, so you can just sit in the chair all night and smoke your disgusting cigarettes?"

Severus opened his mouth to speak but Hermione didn't give him the chance.

"Or maybe you were just thinking you would snuggle up in my bed again, were you, you pervert! You make me sick!" she yelled, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Unable to hold his rage in any longer, Severus screamed back at her, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Yes, that's right, you little slut! You just make me so hot for you, I can't hold myself back!"

Completely caught up in his anger, Severus captured her body to illustrate his point, roughly palming her breast. Hermione tried to scream but one of his hands was hard over her mouth. She struggled, kicking out at him and biting down as hard as she could on his palm but he didn't even flinch. His breath was hot in her ear as he spoke to her in a menacingly soft voice.

"Just look at yourself, Hermione, you love this don't you! And you loved what I did to you earlier, didn't you, you dirty little slut? Tut, tut, what would your mother and father say, hmm?"

In a sudden flurry of movement, Hermione had freed herself from his grasp.

"You bastard!" she screamed at him, throwing her body against him as she did so, knocking him to the ground. She fell with him, falling against his chest, her arms flailing as she tried to cause as much damage as she could to any part of him that she could reach, pulling viciously at his hair and clothes, still repeating "You bastard!" over and over again. Her voice became quieter and more muffled as she continued to attempt to injure him, until her shoulders were shaking with huge wracking sobs as she pummelled her closed fists against his chest.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Severus shouted at her, trying to get her to listen to him through her haze of anguish, his anger suddenly dissipating like a cloud of dust. "What the hell's the matter?"

"They're dead, you bastard!" she shrieked at him as she raised her head from where it had been hanging against her chest. Tears were pouring down her face, her eyes were bloodshot and she had the general look of a crazed woman about her. Severus just stared at her in shock.

"They're dead, that's what's the matter! You bastard, they're dead! My parents are dead and I'll never see them again, you bastard! I hate you! I hate you so much! And I hate them for dying! I hate everyone!" she screamed, mad in her despair and anger.

She sobbed unrestrainedly, her fists falling to her sides as she straddled him. Severus felt a strange feeling flooding through him – suddenly he wanted to comfort this wretched girl who was crying all over him. He reached a gentle hand out to touch her elbow, but she flinched as he touched her and leapt up from him.

"Hermione, I –" he tried to say as he heaved himself off the floor, his back screaming from the way it had been unceremoniously slammed against the hard, sold wooden floor with the weight of a fully grown woman atop him.

"Why the hell do you think you have the right to call me 'Hermione'?" she yelled at him, suddenly fierce again. He took a step towards her, an apology dancing on his breath.

"Don't touch me, you bastard! Don't even speak to me!" she screamed and dodged away from him before flinging herself on her bed and descending once again into noisy tears. Severus winced slightly, glad that Dumbledore had had the foresight to cast automatic silencing charms on every room in Grimmauld Place. Of course these precautions were so that no one could overhear conversations they weren't supposed to, but they worked just as well for screaming matches.

Severus sighed and slumped down on his bed, running a hand through his now messy hair. Shit. He knew for a fact that he had brought that on. What the hell did he think he'd been doing, talking to her like that, and worst of all, grabbing her? There was just something about that girl that raised his hackles every time he spoke to her.

Hermione buried her head into her pillow harder, desperately attempting to muffle her crying. She just couldn't seem to stop. Suddenly it was all too much – him, her, the house, the whole situation, her parents, the way he had held her, touched her, kissed her…

Pushing those thoughts away, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing and stop the tears from flowing.

Severus sat on his bed, his back against the wall for longer than he could count.

On the other side of the room, Hermione's cries softened and she quickly fell into a light and restless sleep, tossing and turning. Severus watched from the other side of the room as she slept, feeling a strange pang go through him every time she cried out. He had been wrong. She wasn't still a child. At twenty-five she had suffered more than most. Her heart-wrenching cries of, 'Daddy!' and, 'Mum, Help!' didn't help the pangs in his chest, as she so obviously relived the night her parents had died over and over.

And he had brought that on. He still didn't know what had made him act in that way towards her, but it had been inexcusable. The logical part of him didn't blame her for her reaction.

As the room grew darker still, Severus got up from the bed and picked up one of the blankets from the floor. Hermione had quietened now, but was shivering – despite being July, the weather here was wet and cold compared to Italy. He gently put the blanket over her and she whimpered. He froze, panicking that she had woken up, but she just turned onto her tummy, tucking her face into the material of her pillow and sighed. He was pleased to see that after a while she stopped shivering so badly.

He walked quickly back across the room and discarded his clothes, leaving them once again in a small heap on the floor by his bed. Hermione hadn't got very far with making his bed, and although he could easily do it with magic, Severus really couldn't be bothered, so he just picked up a blanket and a pillow and lay down on the bare mattress in his boxer shorts with them.

He closed his eyes tiredly, but found it hard to sleep. He was far too aware of Hermione's presence in the room with him. Although she had stopped crying out in her sleep, she was snuffling occasionally in a manner that reminded Severus of a baby animal.

Too exhausted to stay awake any longer, Severus eventually drifted off to sleep after lying in bed for nearly two hours, Hermione's soft sounds lulling him to sleep.


	5. Part 5

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is so overdue, and sorry it's a little shorter than the others. I just wanted to get something up to show you that I haven't abandoned the story – I do intend to complete it. Please review, whether you enjoy it or not. Many thanks. Creak… 

Sudden heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent room as Hermione Granger awoke with a start. Darkness encompassed her – the only light in the room was a faint glow reflected on the polished floor of her room at number 12, Grimmauld Place. It was the vague, shimmering light cast by the moon shining bleakly in through the window, the curtains of which had been left open the previous night.

Hermione sat up in bed in the shadowed room, her breath coming in terrified pants. The darkness seemed to heighten her other senses whilst it blocked out her vision – her ears were now hyper-sensitised to the almost imperceptible creaks coming from outside her door. She recognised the sound of a creaky floorboard on the stairs immediately and froze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She tried to convince herself it was just an Order member getting themselves a Midnight snack – Molly, perhaps – or Harry and Ron returning early and creeping upstairs as quietly as possible so as not to disturb anybody.

But somehow she knew instinctively that it was more than that. It was ridiculous, she knew, but there was something extremely sinister about the creaks that were still softly issuing from outside her room.

Hermione tired to keep herself calm as she realised there must be some kind of intruder in the house. Despite still trying to convince herself that she was being absurdly paranoid, her fears were confirmed in shocking rapidity as she heard a whispered voice almost directly outside her door.

"Find them," came the barely discernible command.

Hermione froze, the sullen-sounding voice sending shivers down her spine. The intruders' footsteps (it was now clear that there was more than one of them in the house) had now become completely silent – she knew from experience that the creakiest set of floorboards was the one on the staircase leading up to the first floor of the house, where her bedroom was located. It was more worrying for Hermione, now, on the other hand, as she couldn't tell if they had moved on from outside her room, or if they were still lurking there, as if lying in wait.

Her mind immediately fled to Death Eaters. And a small, disturbed part of her brain couldn't help but suspect that the 'them' the intruders had referred to was herself and Snape. Perhaps the man in Italy had been a Death Eater, after all…

Hermione sat entirely still for several long minutes, her ears still pricked for the creak of floorboards or more whispers. When none came after a few long, excruciating moments, she pushed the blanket covering her body off, and slipped silently out of bed.

She winced and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out a moment later as she put a hesitant foot softly against the cold floor. A chill swept through her body as the floorboard creaked ominously beneath her, sounding ridiculously loud in the otherwise still room. She couldn't be sure that the intruders hadn't been able to break through the silencing charms placed on the rooms by Dumbledore so they could hear if any of the house's occupants were awake. She froze, waiting for the door to burst open and the intruders to come through, having heard the floorboard creaking and realised that she was awake.

After a few tense moments, Hermione let out a shaky breath she didn't realise she had been holding. It seemed that the intruders had progressed through the house and luckily, hadn't heard her movement. When silence had reigned for several minutes, Hermione gingerly got to her feet. As her other foot touched the floor, she closed her eyes in suspense, waiting for a companion creak to come.

Her eyes opened in relief when it never came, and she begun to tiptoe across the dark room to Severus' bed, where he was still sleeping.

As she approached the bed, she could make out the slow, gentle, up and down movement of Severus' bare chest in the moonlight. Standing over his dimly lit form, Hermione wondered how best to wake him as she bit her lip nervously. However she woke him, she feared that he would start shouting at her, thereby alerting the intruders to the fact that they were awake.

"Severus? Severus, wake up!" Hermione hissed through her teeth, as quietly as she could. She was hesitant to touch the slumbering man in the bed, in case this incited a violent awakening from him. She couldn't imagine that he would take it kindly if he woke up to find her standing over his bed. She could just imagine the expression on his face – shock first, then anger. And then the shouting would undoubtedly start.

She still didn't know if the intruders had ruptured the silencing charms on the rooms, but as she had always been the kind of person to fear the worst, she couldn't help but suspect that they had. Even if the intruders were on one of the floors above them, they would no doubt hear if Severus yelled. From what she had experienced of him before, Hermione couldn't help but think that his yelling would probably penetrate right up to the top floor of the house. She hovered over him, her bottom lip still caught between her teeth in indecision.

"Severus!" she hissed more insistently, hoping that it would be enough to wake him. Severus still didn't wake, but rolled onto his back, emitting a soft snore as he did so. The moonlight glinted off his pale face as he moved, and Hermione noticed once again how much more relaxed he looked when he was asleep. The lines on his face had faded almost to nothing, and the permanent sneer had dropped off his face, although the corners of his mouth were still turned down slightly, as though his dreams were filled with displeasing thoughts.

Putting such thoughts out of her mind for the moment – this was neither the time nor the place for such frivolities – Hermione gritted her teeth, and in a sudden swoop of movement, she knelt down on the floor level with his pillow, and steeled herself for the wrath that would no doubt follow her actions. She clamped her left hand over Severus' mouth to muffle the exclamation that she felt sure would come when he awoke.

At the same time, she took a deep, fortifying breath, and used her other hand to shake Severus' shoulder violently.

After barely a moment's pause, Severus' dark eyes flicked open and his gaze darted around. In the darkness of the room, Hermione could make out a glint of wildness in his black eyes, and his mouth began to move under her palm. She could feel his lips, his tongue, his teeth, grazing against the tender skin on the inside of her hand. However, instead of the anger Hermione had been expecting, the wildness in his eyes began to grow, and his body began to thrash in the bed, his shoulder shaking under her grip.

It was as though his whole body was wired up to an electric current – he was moving restlessly, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. He was making strange sounds, which were muffled under her hand. She feared that he would wake fully at any moment, and considering his present state, she didn't even want to contemplate how he might behave.

In a haze of panic, Hermione pressed her hand tighter against his mouth and leant very close to him so she could whisper in his ear, hoping that if she woke him quickly and calmly with the sound of her familiar voice, he might not react too dramatically.

"Severus! Severus, it's all right! It's me – it's Hermione," she murmured to him softly, so close to him that her lips brushed momentarily against his earlobe. She froze as her lips made contact with his soft, warm skin, and she felt a jolt of feeling spread through her body. Despite the fact that it was late July, it was unfeasibly chilly in her room, and his skin felt deliciously warm and soothing against her own, chilled flesh.

It was then that she noticed that his blanket had slipped down his body whilst he had been thrashing in the bed, and his naked chest was shining in the moonlit room. Her eyes drifted slowly up his body, noting the numerous pink and white scars littering his chest. Her breathing sped up slightly as her eyes fell greedily upon his nipples – they were small, taut, brown peaks standing out through a few dark, wiry hairs. All of a sudden, Hermione had a completely unbidden image of herself bending down and taking one of those dusky pink nipples into her mouth, and the thought sent a shot of arousal through her.

Her gaze continued to slide up his body, until she finally reached his face. A shocked gasp escaped her lips, and she flew back from his body, clasping a hand over her own mouth as angry obsidian eyes stared back at her. Severus was completely awake now, and Hermione felt a wave of sickness flood through her as she became aware of the loathing in his eyes.

Her cheeks flushed brightly as she remembered the way she had been looking at his body, and she swallowed deeply, feeling like some kind of pervert for looking at him when he wasn't in a state to realise what was going on around him.

They froze in a weird sort of tableau – she was hovering over him, her hand still clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror and shock as he stared contemptuously at her, his black eyes flashing. They held each other's gaze for several long moments, Hermione finding herself unable to look away from his penetrating eyes. A sudden noise from above, however, broke the moment and they both looked up sharply in shock and, in Severus' case, confusion.

The creaking of a floorboard from the room directly above them.

Hermione let out a barely audible gasp of horror, all her previous fear and anxiety returning to her in a flood of painful emotion. When she looked back at Severus, the anger and hatred had disappeared from his eyes, to be replaced with concern, confusion and a hint of something that Hermione thought was fear. He was looking at her so closely he was barely blinking, his eyes narrowed slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was low, sharp and accusatory.

"What is it? You know what's happening. Tell me."

Hermione shook her head hesitantly, glancing up at the ceiling and backing away from him and the bed, overcome by a surfeit of emotion once again. Before she could get more than a few steps away, however, Severus reared up from the bed, and threw the covers off him to reveal his half naked body. Suddenly, he was in front of her, his face harsh and unforgiving as he grasped her wrist tightly, his fingers digging into the thin skin covering the veins and fragile ligaments on the inside of her wrist. He roughly pulled her to him until her chest was pressed against his.

"Hermione, listen to me," he said, his voice so low she could barely hear what he was saying. "You know what's happening. Tell me."

"There's someone in the house," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Someone's broken in. I –"

"Shit," he interrupted her, pulling away abruptly and picking up his clothes from the floor. He shoved on the shorts and t-shirt he had worn the previous day, and as he did so, the moonlight fell over his body. Hermione couldn't stop the faint gasp that fell from her lips as she saw the Dark Mark visible on his forearm. The glamour he had undoubtedly cast must have worn off, and it now seemed to blaze like a beacon in the dark room.

Severus must have heard her gasp, for he spun on his heel to face her, his expression clouded with anger. When he saw where her gaze was focused, Severus could barely hold back his own exhalation of horror as he realised that the Dark Mark was showing once again on his pale forearm. He gritted his teeth against the fury welling up inside of him and forced himself to meet Hermione's eye.

She was staring at him as though petrified, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She was once again biting her bottom lip, a habit that was becoming increasingly endearing to Severus. As he looked at her scared and forlorn expression, Severus felt his anger quickly dissipating, and he found himself entertaining thoughts of sympathy for the girl. She had lost her parents at such a young age, she was basically living in a permanent war zone, she was saddled with him as a partner for the time being by the looks of it, and she was clearly scared out of her mind.

In a sudden movement, he strode towards her purposefully. Thinking that he was going to hit her or chastise her, Hermione seemed to cower in on herself, but Severus grabbed her hands and brought them up against his chest. He could feel how cold she was, and rubbed his hands against hers in an attempt to pass on some of his body warmth. Then he did something that was completely un-premeditated, and shocked Hermione so much she barely believed that he was the same man. Very gently, and slowly, he caught her eyes and gently raised their entwined hands to his mouth. Turning her hand over, he pressed a small kiss on the top of her hand, their eyes remaining locked for the whole time. His lips were warm and tender and sent tiny jolts of unbelievable pleasure shooting down her arm.

When he withdrew his lips, he whispered to her,

"It's going to be all right, Hermione. But you must be brave. We are going to go out there and fight them. I will be there for you, Hermione. Do not be scared."

Severus shocked even himself with the gentleness in his voice, and raised a pale hand to brush away a few locks of hair that had fallen into her face, obscuring her vision. As he did so, Hermione felt something within herself snap, and she flung suddenly herself into his arms, tears coursing down her cheeks as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

After a moment of shock that incapacitated him, Severus slowly lifted his arms and wrapped them around the silently sobbing girl. He could feel her tears wetting his own flesh and her warm breath sending shivers of feeling down his neck and spine. It made him feel more alive than he had done in years. Forgetting about everything for one long moment, Severus clasped Hermione to him, drinking in the flowery scent of her hair and the soft, comforting curves of her now-familiar body.

When they finally pulled apart, Hermione's eyes were red and raw-looking, but her tears had dried and there was a slightly awed smile on her face as she looked up at him. He nervously returned the smile and at that, Hermione allowed a true smile to creep across her face. They held each other's gaze sweetly for several minutes before Severus softly broke the silence.

"Are you ready, Hermione?"

She nodded, finding her strength and confidence once again. She pulled out her wand as Severus reached under his pillow and retrieved his own. Then he held out his hand for her to take. She regarded it silently and Severus began to grow uncomfortable, fearing that she didn't wish for him to try and comfort her in such a way. However, just as he was about to pull his hand back, she caught his eye with a shy smile and grabbed it, his skin warm and soft against hers.

He used their link to pull her to him so she was mere inches away from his strong chest.

"We'll stay together for as long as possible. We have to try to reach the Third Floor – Tonks, Moody and Arthur will all be asleep up there," he whispered to her and she nodded. He started to move towards the door of the room, pulling Hermione with him.

"Severus, wait!" Hermione hissed, grabbing his arm and spinning him back to face her. "I heard them say that they're looking for some people here. I think it might be us."

Severus nodded grimly at her words and Hermione clutched his hand tighter in response.

"It'll be all right, Hermione. I promise."

For one blissful moment, Hermione believed him and took comfort in his words. Then she realised that he could not make such a promise – death could cheat anyone out of life, no matter what promises had been made.

Swallowing her tears and the memories of her parents, Hermione followed Severus as he reached the door and pushed Hermione behind him. She allowed him to do this, despite the part of her that protested about equal rights, knowing that he was only trying to protect her. She leaned slightly against his back as he pressed his ear against the gap between the door and its frame and listened for any hint of a movement outside.

They remained like that for several minutes. Hermione could sense the heavy beating of Severus' heart and took comfort in the fact that he was clearly as scared as she was, although he was trying to hide it so as not to alarm her. His scent invaded her senses as she stayed pressed up against him, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and revel in it for a few short moments.

The moment was broken as Severus moved and very slowly twisted the door handle around to open the door. It eased open silently, except for an almost imperceptible click as the lock was freed from the frame. Severus only opened the door halfway, and they slid out, Severus tugging insistently on Hermione's increasingly clammy hand. He shut the door behind them so as not to alert anyone to the fact that they were out of bed.

The beating of her blood in her head filled Hermione's ears as she and Severus crept along the first floor corridor, sliding against the wall and keeping to the most shadowed parts of the corridor. They reached the staircase that led up to the Second floor relatively quickly, and they were just about to mount the first step when Severus heard whispering at the top of the stairs.

"Check downstairs," came a gruff voice.

"Right," replied a voice that sounded as though the man's throat was filled with nails, and Severus froze as he recognised the voice of…

The floorboards on the stairs creaked as the man began to descend the staircase to come down to the first floor corridor. Severus suddenly realised that they were standing directly where the man would see him and Hermione. Pulling on Hermione's hand, he tugged her backwards until his back collided soundlessly with the wall. The area was deeply shadowed, and Severus pulled Hermione against his chest and wrapped his arms around her middle to keep her back pressed tightly against his front.

However, Hermione turned in his grasp and wrapped her own arms around his neck, snuggling her face into his chest. His hands moved up to caress her shoulder blades and he breathed out a shaky exhalation.

"It can't be…" he murmured to himself, not realising he had spoken aloud until Hermione looked curiously up at him.

"What, Severus?" she questioned him gently, one of her hands slipping into the silky strands of his hair that dangled around his neck and shoulders. He shook his head, as though trying to clear his thoughts.

"That voice – it sounded like…" he stopped short as the footsteps reached the floor near were they were standing. As he stopped speaking, Hermione looked behind her and turned in his arms once again to see what was happening. The moon cast an eerie shadow over the man's form – he was wearing tatty grey robes that were ripped and shredded around the ankles, sleeves and shoulders. He had his back to them, but Severus and Hermione could see greasy strands of dull black hair straggling down his back and curling repulsively around his shoulder blades. He slowly raised a hand to scratch his head, and Hermione gasped in horror at the sight.

His hand was tinted grey with an underlying tinge of a greenish-yellow stain that had the appearance of decay spreading across his flesh. The skin was stretched across the prominent ligaments and looked almost transparent in its texture. There were thick, crusty scabs covering large, pus-coloured areas of his hand.

The sight repulsed Hermione and her hand flew up to clutch at Severus' hands. However, the sight of his apparently rotting, and disgusting hand did little to prepare them for the shock that Hermione and Severus suffered when the man turned around and looked almost directly into the shadows where they were hiding.

His tattered robes swung around him as he turned, coming to rest against black leather boots that were smeared with blood and a substance that looked disturbingly like blood. His dark-brown trousers were tucked into his knee-high boots, the knees threadbare and stained with more mud. Under his open robes, he wore a yellowing shirt that had sweat stains around the collar and cuffs. The shirt was missing nearly half its buttons, and it gaped open, revealing a horrifically emaciated chest that was a similar shade of greyish-green to his hands.

Near the middle of his chest, where his heart was, there was a huge scar that had been crudely stitched – the central line was red and glistening as if it had only barely healed before scaring over. It stood out in stark contrast to the grey tinge of his skin, and Hermione couldn't help thinking that it looked like someone had ripped his heart out. But that was, of course, impossible.

The tendons in the man's neck stood out as though they were painfully distended, and there were deep gashed around his neck, some of which were weeping yellow pus, which dripped onto the collar of his shirt and robes. His face was the worst shock of all however. It was grey and sunken-looking, the cheeks plastered to the fragile bones beneath. More of his straggly hair was hanging across his furrowed forehead. There was a disgusting grimace on his face; the thin lips stretched across his yellowed, broken teeth, the brown gums shrunk almost to nothing.

Hermione had to restrain a gasp as her eyes fell on his – they were empty, emotionless black holes that seemed to express nothing more than a sense of unhappiness, disillusion and death. He had the general look of a lump of rotting flesh, and his bloodshot eyes darted around unnaturally fast. Both Severus and Hermione found themselves holding their breath as the unearthly stench of the man reached them – he stank of decaying animal flesh and an odour that seemed to encapsulate the very reek of death and destruction.

"No," Severus whispered, pulling Hermione's gaze back to his face with his words. He was staring at the skeletal man with an expression of confused horror upon his features. "It can't be."

"Severus, what is it?" Hermione asked him in an urgent whisper. His gaze fell back to her and he looked haunted, as though he had seen a ghost from his past.

"That's…"

Severus gulped.

"That's Evan Rosier."

Hermione stared at him in shock for a second.

"But," she started softly. "But he's –"

"Dead. Yes. I know."

Hermione stared up at him disbelievingly, a frown creasing her features.

"It can't be! Severus, the dead can't come back to life!"

"I know!" he hissed at her, his voice as low as he could keep it.

Their conversation was interrupted moments later, however, by the chilling sound of the man – if he could be called a man – emitting a bestial growl that resounded in the otherwise silent corridor. The floor creaked as he took a step closer to where they were hiding.

In the dim light of the moon, Hermione and Severus could see his nostrils flare as though he were trying to sniff them out. He took a long, deep breath through his nose and a small, self-satisfied smile crept onto his face as he continued to progress towards them.

Hermione was frozen against Severus, unable to move, her eyes wide with horror as all she could do was watch as Rosier came closer and closer towards them. Hermione was now positive that there were Death Eaters in the house, and a tingling deep in her gut told her that her guess had been right – they were looking for her and Severus. She stared at him, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and making them seem all the more bottomless and soulless.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Rosier whispered in a voice that was so sickly sweet it made Hermione shiver. He was getting nearer and nearer to them, and Hermione could feel Severus' breathing speeding up.

"I can _smell_ you, children!"

He was so close now he would be able to discern any movement they made. Severus' hand was trapped between his stomach and Hermione's back from where he had been stroking her hair to try and calm her down, and he gently, slowly, moved his hand downwards until he could reach the pocket of the shorts he was wearing. Hermione felt his movement and, realising that he was trying to reach his wand, tried to move imperceptibly to her right to give him better access.

However, as she shifted her weight onto her right foot, a floorboard below her creaked ominously and Severus and Hermione froze, their eyes glued onto the man stalking predatorily towards them. His head shot up at the sound of the creak, and a grin spread across his thin cheeks.

"Ah," he said so softly Hermione could barely hear him. "There you are, my lovelies."

Hermione was clutching Severus' hand so tightly he could feel her short nails biting into his skin and he would have winced, had he not been so concentrated on the task before him. Rosier was growing ever closer to them, his eyes now fixed determinedly on the exact spot where they were cowered against the wall.

Severus grimaced. He had to get them out of this situation – it would only be a couple more seconds before Rosier reached their hiding place, and Severus didn't want to contemplate how a dead man might kill and mutilate a young girl and his ex-school cohort.

He didn't even want to think about what the Death Eaters would undoubtedly do to Hermione if they got their hands on her. He had seen and been an unwilling part of too many rapes to even want to entertain the idea in his head. It made him feel physically sick, and the mere memory of the last rape he had had to perform years ago made bile soar up his throat as if to choke him. He unconsciously tightened his hold on Hermione, and, unable to watch Rosier's imminent approach any longer, she turned in his arms once again and buried her face against him. Once again that night Severus felt her silent tears on his skin, and he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever feel such closeness with a woman again.

Just as Rosier took a final step towards them, Severus bottled up his fears and pushed Hermione to his right, out of the way, and pulled his wand out of his pocket in a movement that shocked Black – he had clearly not been expecting such a display. In a flurry of movement that was too quick even for Rosier to keep track of, Severus grabbed Hermione, pulled her flush to him, suddenly and shouted an incantation.

They disappeared with a small, barely discernible pop, a howl of rage from Rosier the last thing they heard.


End file.
